Wake Up, The Dream Is Over
by Lazarus76
Summary: A male model arrives at a house in Paris - little does he know that reality is better than the dream he lives in. Inspired by Angelofthemorning1978. Arthur/Ariadne
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. I got the idea for this from one of Angelinthemorning1978's fics, and also because I tend to write fics that are pretty angsty, so I thought something light hearted might be a good contrast. **

"Ten minutes!"

Arthur sighed as he heard the agitated voice of the backstage announcer. He wriggled in the chair he was seated in, noting in irritation that the heat of the backstage room was causing his face to flush. He could not go out and face everyone with a red face. It was so-

"OK, let's fix the damage!"

He breathed a sigh of relief as Trudi, his make up artist appeared, holding a large pot of foundation. She tilted her head, and looked at him critically, then smiled.

"Those cheekbones," she said, admiringly. "I could slice parmesan on them." Picking up a large brush, she mashed the head of it in the pale beige powder, and then began to expertly brush it onto Arthur's face. He sat completely still, letting the gentle sweep and cool powder take the heat out of his skin. Her touch was light, and after a few seconds, the brush was lowered, and she took a step back.

"Perfect," she said, smiling. "You're gorgeous. But then, you know that already."

Arthur blushed, his skin taking on a fiery hue that not even the powder and foundation could conceal. He raised an eyebrow. "Its amazing what two hours sitting here can do." He studied his reflection. He never ceased to marvel at how they could brush out ever slight imperfection. He no longer even looked real, he considered, but bloodless.

"Two minutes!" the announcer barked. Arthur sighed. Trudi raised her eyebrows. "You're on, superstar."

Arthur smiled wryly as he got down. He studied himself in the mirror, the sample of the latest collection of suits clinging perfectly to his lean, toned frame. He sighed, and began to walk to the entrance to the catwalk.

"They're all watching you, kiddo," whispered his agent, Eames, who was also standing backstage. "Don't fall over, ok?"

Arthur nodded, dumbly. As soon as he stepped on the edge of the catwalk, he was transformed from a thinking, sentient young man, into a walking piece of meat. He began to walk, trying to stare straight ahead, ignoring the flashbulbs exploding in his face. He heard the coos of delight from the young women clustered around the edge, and also felt the bushes of envy. "If only I had hips like that," he heard one woman mutter, and he felt himself blush with embarrassment.

_Please let this be over soon, _he prayed, feeling the light grey suit weigh him down. He turned at the end, and began to walk back towards the exit, almost stomping his feet in his impatience.

Watching him from the back, Eames frowned.

* * *

"So what was going on out there?" Eames asked, puzzled. They were sitting in a small cafe away from the madness of fashion week, and out of the suit, in jeans and a light blue t-shirt, Arthur was looking refreshingly normal. He sighed and picked up his cup of black coffee, looking enviously at Eames' mocha. His trainer had told him he'd gained half a kilo in the last few weeks, which he almost took pride in.

"I'm just...sick of this," Arthur mumbled. Out of defiance, he grabbed the sugar shaker, and tipped it in his coffee. Eames' eyes widened.

"Hey, hey!" He said, reaching over and taking it from Arthur. "Don't, please! I'll get the blame - and the bill - if you start bursting out of those suits!"

Arthur shrugged. "Send it to me. I can afford it." He sighed and picked up the cup. Eames looked at him, his irritation growing. "Look, Artie, talk to me. I'm your agent, your friend. What's going on?"

Arthur tipped his head onto his shoulder. "I live in a dream. A dream world where everything is airbrushed to perfection...and I'm sick of it." He slumped in his seat. "I hate sugar-free coffee."

"Sorry," Eames said, shrugging, "but you heard the photographer-"

"I did," Arthur cut in. "Oh, Arthur, you're getting a double chin. Oh, Arthur, those bags under your eyes! Oh, Arthur, you're nearly 30 and that means your career as a male model is as good as over." He lowered his voice. "Did you hear what happened to Fischer?"

Eames' eyebrows went up. Robert Fischer, with cheekbones carved out of baltic ice and light blue eyes, was a rival. "What about him?"

"He got dropped. By Giovanni." Arthur hunched over the table. "They said he was too old."

Eames' eyes widened. "He's only two years older than you!"

Arthur nodded. "Exactly." He sighed. "I need to find something else in my life, or I'm going to end up a has-been, fit for nothing but looking at my old photos, with a row of bony women cooing over how gorgeous I was." He shuddered.

Eames grinned. "You need some fun. I can fix you up with-"

"No, don't," Arthur protested. "No more models, please! I really cannot handle going out for a meal and seeing who can eat the least, and then listening to her weeping over her alleged cellulite!" He groaned. "Please, if you are going to fix me up, find me someone normal!"

"No, no," Eames said, shaking his head. "I was thinking of you going away for a bit. A friend of mine - a good mate, as it happens - has a lovely house here in Paris. And he has children and a gorgeous wife. You could immerse yourself in a family life for a little bit."

Arthur nodded. "Sounds good." He stirred the now cold coffee. "I could actually meet people who are real."

Eames started to grin. "I'll give him a call."

* * *

Eames bit his lip. "OK, Dom, I hear you," he said, his tone worried. "But he's already left! He's on the evening flight out of New York! Oh, so you're not actually in Paris, you've had to go to L.A on business? And you've taken the children? So who's at the house? One of Mal's father's students? Is she hot? You have no idea? OK, don't worry, I'm on the next plane, ooh, sorry, bad connection-"

* * *

Arthur lugged his flight case out of the back of the cab, and handed over several crisp euro notes to the obliging driver. He swallowed. The flight has been seven hours of just...relaxing. And, he thought with a grin, eating the high fat, high salt foods that he was normally banned from.

"Stay lean," his trainer kept instructing him. "Stay starved," he muttered with disgust.

He lugged the case up the steps of the elegant Parisian townhouse. He was feeling nervous, but also somewhat excited. And happy. Happy to be with people who had normal lives, normal jobs, normal children. He rang the door bell.

After a couple of minutes, no-one had answered. Slightly irritated, he pressed again. No response.

Now his nerves were getting frayed. Normally, he wanted something, he got it. Immediately. He pressed again, beginning to think this was either a joke, or he was standing outside the wrong house.

"That's it," he muttered. "I'm-"

Suddenly, the door opened. A flustered looking young woman stood in front of him, her hair damp and hanging around her shoulders. She was wearing a terry cloth robe. She bit her lip anxiously as she opened the door.

"Hi, I'm so sorry!" She said, her voice catching slightly. "I was in the shower, and had no idea anyone was coming around, and I-" she stopped, and peered at his face, blinking. "Um, who are you?" she asked, timidly.

Arthur blinked. "You have no idea who I am?"

She shook her head, smiling. "Nope."

He bit his lip. "I'm, um, Arthur," he said, extending his hand. "A friend of Dom's."

She nodded, and took his hand, her fingers still warm and damp from the shower. "Ariadne," she said, brightly. "Come on in!"

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Thank you for all the lovely reviews!**

Ariadne blushed. She suddenly remembered she was standing on the doorstep, clad in only a bathrobe, he skin still flushed from the shower, facing a stranger.

"Oh, I'd better get dressed," she said, dropping her gaze. "Do you want to come in?"

Arthur nodded, feeling confused. She wasn't what he expected. He'd thought Dom's wife was called Mal, and he'd expected a tall, elegant Parisienne - not a short, petite young woman who seemed unaware of who he was. Swallowing, he nodded, and picked up his flight bag.

She hurried in, and began to talk. "I guess you're in the guest suite. Its upstairs, second door on the left." She smiled again. "I'm going to get dressed, see you downstairs!"

Arthur nodded, wondering where his powers of speech had disappeared to. This was unnatural. Normally, travelling for him meant being surrounding by a small group of cooing, fawning attendants. His bags were carried for him, his hotel bookings checked in advanced, and his rooms sumptuous. He bit his lip - being told to pick up his bag and carry it himself was not what he was used to. He began to feel slightly worried - he'd told Eames he wanted a holiday in the real world, but if this was reality...

Sighing, he began to lift the heavy case up the stairs. He frowned, looking down at his wrinkled jeans. He needed to change. He sniffed disdainfully. He also needed a shower. He got to the top of the stairs, and walked to the second door on the left. Putting his hand on it, he opened the door.

He smiled as the door opened. It was small, but tastefully decorated, a room that people actually lived in. He let his eyes wander over the small ornaments artfully placed in the room, and realised that he was sick of anonymous hotels. Rooms that looked unlived in even when you were lying in them.

He hauled his flight bag onto the bed, and unzipped it. Reaching in, he pulled out his toiletries bag, and a fresh towel. Grabbing them both, he headed for the ensuite bathroom, his spirits lifting as he did so.

* * *

Ariadne paused as she ran a comb through her damp hair, wondering who the stranger was. She frowned slightly. He was puzzling - he'd looked at her as though he'd expected her to recognise him, and then looked almost annoyed when her expression had remained blank. She'd thought hard, but she couldn't put a name to him. He looked like a tired, rumpled traveller - probably a postgraduate student, wanting a break.

She put the comb down. She hadn't expected this. She'd been asked over the phone if she would mind house sitting for her Professor's son whilst they were out of town, and jumped at the chance. Dom and Mallorie Cobb's elegant townhouse, with a proper espresso maker and stunning views of the city centre, was a far cry from the scruffy, shabby flat she shared with another Architecture postgrad in the city fringes. She'd envisaged several days of lazy mornings sipping coffee whilst watching the sun rise, walking in the city centre, and sketching. She had not expected to have to try and entertain a guest, who, she thought with a tinge of worry, had looked at her as though she were an alien creature.

She swallowed. _Stop being judgemental, _she scolded herself. He was probably extremely pleasant, she thought. Just jet lagged, and tired. She reached for a soft red neck scarf, and wound it round her throat. It would be fine, she thought. Just fine.

* * *

Arthur let the water cascade over himself, and took a deep breath. It felt good. It felt even better knowing that he could step out of the shower, towel himself, get dressed, and then look forward to a day of just doing nothing. No meetings with Eames, no "lunches" with clients who ordered steak and salmon and smirked as he ordered chicken salad and water, no excrutiating evenings hanging out at parties and bars where impossibly beautiful but vacuous young women tried to engage him in conversation. He grimaced, then yelped slightly as his shower gel dripped into his face. He blinked, washed, and then continued to luxuriate in the warm, steaming rain.

He finished, and swung the door open. As he wrapped the towel around himself, he paused in front of the mirror, and began rubbing himself dry. He swallowed - he was always looking at his reflection. Looking for blemishes that apparently the camera magnified. He sighed, remembering the conversation he'd had with Eames at the airport, before he's clicked his cellphone off.

"Remember," the older man had said, "go easy on the pate and patisserie. The camera adds 10lbs, and-"

Arthur had sighed. "Yes, and I'm nearly 30 and probably going to start to get love handles. Sounds great, see you!"

He sank on the bed, and rubbed his face. He looked at the contents of the case - everything was expensive, and tasteful. He had plenty of money, but no freedom. _Can't eat what I like, go out as late as I like, drink more water than I want to..._

He began to dress. The girl - Ariadne - was intriguing. She'd looked at him blankly, as though he were just another guy. And she looked - normal. Not an angular amazon with narrow hips and breasts he suspected were surgically enhanced. He grinned, remembering a conversation he'd had with Eames and Yusuf, one of the key photographers he'd worked with. They'd been sitting on the balcony of his apartment, Eames raphsodising about the women at Fashion Week. Arthur had just shrugged. He was constantly surrounded by airbrushing, perfection, glossiness.

Reality could be better. He ran his fingers through his hair. Reality could be a lot better. Taking a deep breath, he pulled on a light blue t-shirt, and headed downstairs.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Thank you for the reviews and the adds to alerts and favourites, means a lot!**

Arthur hurried down the stairs, determined to try and start a conversation with this young woman. By the sound of clattering, he guessed she was in the kitchen. He cleared his throat, and walked down the hallway, admiring the delicate, expensive furniture as he went.

He stopped in the doorway. She was measuring filter coffee into a paper sack, and preparing to place it into the maker. Taking a deep breath, he walked forward.

"Here, let me help." He walked to the sink, and turned on the cold faucet. Then he realised he didn't know where anything was, and stood, feeling slightly helpless, and foolish.

Ariadne noticed his discomfort, and smiled. "The water jug is on the side," she pointed out. Arthur hastily grabbed it, and handed it to her. She smiled at him. "Thanks." Deftly, she poured water into the device, closed the lid, and flipped the switch. "Done."

Arthur swallowed. He suddenly realised he was standing still - something he'd been trained to do ever since he was 20. He shifted his weight to his other foot, and tried to slouch slightly. Eames would kill him, he thought, wryly. He was constantly telling Arthur to remember his posture.

"Well," Ariadne said, suddenly breaking into his thoughts. "I was planning on going to the bakery. Do you want to join me, Arthur?"

He nodded. His legs still felt cramped, and stiff - the result of seven hours' flight. "I'd love to," he said, enthusiastically. "Just give me a minute."

She nodded, looking slightly puzzled. He hurried upstairs, grabbed his light leather jacket, and a baseball cap. Jamming it firmly over his head, he ran downstairs to join her.

* * *

Ariadne waited downstairs for her guest. He seemed very sweet, she'd decided, if slightly aloof. She mentally jabbed herself - he was probably just over tired, and jet lagged.

She paused, remembering something. Arthur had stood completely still in the kitchen - no movement, not even a slight foot tap. She shrugged. Probably just his way. She heard footsteps, and saw him coming downstairs. Nodding as he approached her, she opened the front door, and they stepped out together into the early morning sunshine.

* * *

As they walked together, Arthur inhaled. Fresh air. Clean, fresh air. He was beginning to realise how much of his time he spent inhaling recycled air - hotel rooms, airplanes, backstage. He shuddered, and instead concentrated on the soft freshness of the morning.

"...so what do you do?"

He blinked. Ariadne was talking to him. He tried to gather his thoughts, and turned to her. "I'm sorry," he apologised, "um..."

"What do you do for a living?" She asked, smiling, but inside she was beginning to feel slightly unnerved. She looked up at him, wondering if he really was just jet lagged, or shy, or, she thought with a feeling of dread, just disdainful.

Arthur looked at her, and noticed her expression. He suddenly realised he was in danger of being seen as rude, and cold, and desperately needed to enter the conversation. He bit his lip. What did he do for a living, exactly? He spent his days hanging around for photographers and booking agents, being covered with make up, dressed in expensive clothes, and all to sell products. To push perfume, cars, clothing...goods that people really didn't need, but because he had them, they were duped into thinking they did. That they wanted what he had. His lifestyle.

He blinked. It was so pointless. He was pointless. He desperately needed to start again, and as, he turned to Ariadne, and smiled, he realised that here was the perfect place to start. This young woman was normal - sweet, kind, and generous. She wouldn't be impressed by his designer suits or expensive scent. He thought, and blurted out the first thought that came into his head.

"I'm a greeting cards writer."

Ariadne blinked. "Really?" Was there amusement in her voice? He swallowed. "Yes." He smiled again. "I write for holidays. Valentine's Day, Christmas, Bar Mitzvahs." He nodded. "Special days, you know, that people remember."

She tilted her head. "I wouldn't have thought so."

Cold fear began to grip Arthur's heart. "Really?" His eyes widened slightly, and he thought with disgust he must have the look of a petrified puppy. He swallowed. "Why?"

Ariadne looked at him, her expression thoughtful. "Well, you just..." she shrugged. "For some reason I thought you might be a musician."

Arthur began to relax. A musician. A musician, someone who was bohemian, creative, and hedonistic. Not someone who spent his time running on a treadmill, moisturising his skin, and watching his diet in case a tiny crumb of carbohydrate found its way in. A musician. Sweat, alcohol, junk food, and girls. He decided he could live with that.

"Well, I, uh," he swallowed, realising that he was in danger of digging an ever-increasing hole for himself, "I do play guitair." He decided to change the course of the conversation, and focus it back onto her. 2So tell me about yourself. What do you do?" The sun was warming his face, and he decided that he'd let what he said rest.

"I'm a postgraduate student in Architecture."

Arthur felt his heart sink a little. She was studying to be an Architect. She was educated, intelligent. Unlike him, who had dropped out of college in his freshman year when he'd been spotted. He'd been perfectly happy, hidden away, studying French, History, and Literature, until a woman had rushed up to him in Starbucks, cooing over his cheekbones and fabulous body. The muscle man was out - the lean, almost waif-like look was in. Suddenly, Arthur had metamorphosed from feeling like a scrawny little wimp into having a body to die for. In reality, it meant being told not to gain weight, go to the gym, but don't get too skinny... he shook his head, suddenly feeling out of his depth. He was so...shallow.

"Architecture," he said, desperately trying to claw his way back. "I'd love to see you designs."

She blushed. "I doubt they're that good."

"Don't be modest," he chided her. They were coming close to a bakery, and the delicious scents were wafting down the street. He felt himself begin to salivate.

Ariadne looked at him. "Listen, there's a coffee shop in here," she said, her tone almost hesitant. "Do you want to stop here for coffee and pastries?"

Arthur blinked. Pastries. Warm, soft, and oozing sweetness. He nodded. "You bet."

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	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

"So what will you have?"

Arthur looked up. Ariadne was looking at him, her own menu lying flat on the table. He swallowed. They'd found a table at the back of the cafe, and had sat in silence for a good ten minutes, perusing the choices. Arthur realised, with a twinge of embarrassment, that he hadn't decided on anything - he'd been steadily examining the typed list, mentally rejecting them due to too many calories, too much carbohydrate, or both. He rubbed his face. He wished Eames were there -he'd gasp in horror at the menu, grab Arthur's shoulder, and steer him to a restaurant where he could nibble on fruit and yoghurt...and stare longingly at the pastries and danish stacked up on the buffet table.

He blinked. Eames was not there, he was on vacation...and he was an adult. He could, he decided, eat what he liked. Ten years of abstinence from anything sugared, fattening, or fun was enough. He smiled at her.

"Pain au chocolat." He said it with finality, as though daring her to challenge him to change his mind. "I haven't had one for a while," he said, and then cringed. He didn't need to justify his choice - she was still, practically, a stranger.

She nodded, but looked slightly taken aback. "Good choice." She closed her menu, and gestured to the waitress. She approached, smiling. "S'il vous plait?"

"Deux pain au chocolat, s'il vous plait, et deux cafe au lait." The waitress nodded, scribbling on her pad. Ariadne smiled. "Merci beaucoup." Arthur blinked as the waitress sailed into the back, presumably to the kitchen. Arthur looked at her. "Thank you."

"No problem," Ariadne said, smiling. There was a pause, and Arthur tried to think of something to say. He felt ridiculous - he was used to meetings with rock stars, actors, and other models - and here he was tongue tied in the presence of a young woman who was a student, dressed as though she only shopped at thrift stores, and had the audacity to assume he took milk in his coffee. His stomach recoiled - he ate virtually no diary. Arthur suddenly wondered what Eames would say. Probably a cutting "shall I ask them to fly you back cargo?"

He sighed. He stared at the table, and felt slightly forlorn. There was nothing he could say to her. Nothing. She had an ordinary life, one filled where you could go where you liked without worrying about being stared at and people pestering you, where you didn't find yourself dragged through the gossip columns simply because you happened to speak to a woman at a party, where you weren't berated because you had half an hour's less sleep and turned up at a shoot looking tired. Where you actually had time to sit and read a book, because you weren't always being hassled on long haul flights by over-attentive attendants, and where you could eat what you liked, and drink too much, and go to the movies-

"So have you been to Paris before?"

Arthur blinked. He'd been to Paris more times than he could count, but never for pleasure. He shuddered - all he remembered were the insides of hotels, and draughty photography studios and runways. He decided to lie. Blatantly.

"No."

She blinked, and he felt his cheeks flush; he'd sounded hostile, defensive. She swallowed, and played with the shining cutlery lying on the table. He suddenly felt embarrassed.

"Um, I've not really seen much of it as a tourist," he said, his tone apologetic, trying to make up for his rudeness. "I haven't seen Versailles-"

"You haven't?" Ariadne shook her head at him. "You must!"

"Well, um, I don't know much about French History," Arthur said. He suddenly felt another wave of embarrassment. He didn't really know much about anything, he ruefully concluded. He sometimes wondered that if a light was shone in his ear, they'd only see it shine right out.

"Its fine," Ariadne said, smiling. "I'll take you. I love that period - the fall of the ancien regime, the Republicans, the decadence of Marie Antoinette- its amazing!"

Arthur swallowed. _I'm a bimbo, _he thought. _Just an airhead. _He felt his shoulders droop. All he could do, he thought, bitterly, was wear clothes, look good in them, and know how to pull his stomach in for the cameras. He felt a sudden, sickening jolt. He wanted to leave modelling, that he was sure of. But what else could he do? He didn't have a college degree, and he couldn't exactly go to work in Wal-Mart.

He swallowed. "I'm um, just going to the men's room."

* * *

Ariadne sat, lost in thought. She wasn't entirely sure, but there was something about Arthur she couldn't put her finger on. He seemed nervous, unsure of himself. Unwilling to really contribute to their conversation.

Her shoulders slumped. It was going to be a long week. Suddenly, she heard the clatter of china, and looked up to see the waitress re-appear, holding the pastries, and coffee on a tray. Ariadne smiled, and the young woman began to settle the food down. Gracefully, she withdrew.

Swallowing, Ariadne stirred her coffee. She decided to try another tack. Try and pull Arthur out of himself. She picked up her pain au chocolat. Suddenly, she heard footsteps, and Arthur re-appeared.

"Sorry," he said, apologetically. "I think I drank too much water on the flight!"

She shrugged. "It happens." She was still holding the pastry, and noticed how he looked at it almost suspiciously, as though it were a foreign object. She bit into hers, appreciating the sweetness mingling with the light pastry.

Arthur noticed, and following her example, took a bite. He felt a cloud of sweetness dissolving on his tongue. He blinked. The taste and sensation were nearly electrifying, and he felt a sudden stab of guilt. Then a rush of defiance. He was on vacation, and didn't care. He took another bite, whilst Ariadne sipped her coffee.

After another few bites, the pastry had disappeared. He blinked. Ariadne couldn't resist. "Quick work!"

He smiled. "I think I was hungry." She nodded, then her eyes narrowed. "Um, I think you have some chocolate. On the tip of your nose."

He looked at her. "Um, would you mind wiping it off? I can't see it!"

She nodded, and picking up her napkin, leaned forward, and gently brushed the tip of his nose. He felt her touch, light and delicate, and also inhaled the perfume she was wearing. It was sweet, and fresh - nothing like the heavy, thick scents that the women he usually knew wore. It spoke of an innocence, and gentleness. He inhaled again, and as she leaned back, he felt a sudden rush. She was sweet, and lovely. And, he decided, appraising her with his eyes, cute. Large brown eyes, a smattering of freckles, long dark hair. No make up, no expensive clothes - just someone at ease with herself. And, Arthur suddenly felt, if he was with her, he might learn to be more at ease with himself as well. He looked at her.

"Listen," he said, "I'd really like to go to Versailles. But I'd like to take a walk, around the city. Would you join me?"

Ariadne nodded. "Of course." She picked up her coffee cup - relief was starting to course through her in waves. He was just under a cloud of jet lag, she decided, finally, and she could live with that. As she looked at his face, with its angular cheekbones and large brown eyes, she felt in a moment she could forgive him anything.

She blinked. She wasn't normally so shallow. What was wrong with her? He reached in his pocket, and pulled out his wallet. "I'll settle this." He stood up. "Back in a moment."

She smiled to herself. His manners, she decided, where impeccable. She couldn't remember the last time someone had volunteered to pay the whole bill. She watched his lean form head to the cashier.

Within moments, he was back. "Ready to go?" he asked, smiling.

She nodded, and picked up her coffee cup. "Of course!" She finished her coffee, and got up, picking up her light jacket as they began to leave.

Outside, the sunlight was bright, and Arthur suddenly felt extremely contented. He was with someone genuine, someone sweet, who, he hoped, would like him. But, he thought with consternation, she could never find out about his vain, shallow, dream like existance. She would think he was-

"Arthur?"

"Hmmm?"

"Look over there!"

Arthur swung his gaze, and his heart began to pound.

At the end of the street, attached to building, was a billboard of him, in a suit, advertising expensive cologne. He swallowed, feeling himself start to cringe. He looked so smug, so arrogant. He looked at her, and felt his insides begin to collapse.

"Yes?" He said, feebly.

"Living statues!"

He looked again, and exhaled with relief. Ariadne's finger was pointing in the direction of three street performers, dressed and decorated to appear as living Grecian statues. He felt a wave of re-assurance.

"Well," he said, smiling. "Shall we go and watch them?" Putting his hand on her shoulder, he began to steer her, away from the incriminating billboard.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Thank you for reading and reviewing the previous chapter!**

Arthur took a deep breath as they approached the living statues. The sudden fear of being recognised - or linked - to the smugly arrogant face on the billboard was dissolving. He smiled at Ariadne as they approached the street performers.

"So, have you been in Paris long?" he asked. She shrugged. "A couple of years. I do enjoy studying here - its so relaxed, and there's a good atmosphere."

He nodded. He couldn't really relate to the idea of staying anywhere long enough to really appreciate a place. He had a house in LA, and a loft conversion in New York, and spent most of the time living in a plane seat. He sometimes wondered why he'd even bothered to buy property, let alone take time to hire decorators. They were really places to store things - books he never read, DVDs he never watched, CDs he never listened to. He blinked. He lived out of a suitcase, in hotels, in transience. Nothing in his life had any sense of permanence.

He banished the disquieting thoughts to the back of his mind. He was here, in Paris, actually having some leisure time. He stole a quick glance at her, and then, without realising, began to look at her, intently.

She was really pretty, he decided. A fresh faced prettiness, with no need for thick make up or a heavy scent. Plus, she was petite, rather than a tall, lanky, angular frame. He grimaced slightly - one of the things he'd grown tired of quickly was Eames' insistence in him dating women who were thinner than him. He blushed, realising that his mind was beginning to wander.

"Hey, its warm," Ariadne said, impulsively. "Do you want an ice cream?"

He blinked. Ice cream. He hardly ever ate it. "Um..."

"Well?"

She was insistent, he thought. He decided to try and be honest. "I don't normally eat it," he said, a note of apology in his voice.

"I'm not surprised." She shook her head. "You look amazing." The compliment bolstered him, and he suddenly felt a surge of pride. Then it descended. She was complimenting him on his body...and that was all he ever got complimented on. No-one ever complimented him on being kind, or funny, or on generous. He sometimes felt that he didn't exist, except as a body to cover with clothes. He emerged from his self-absorption to realise Ariadne was speaking again.

"Well, I'm going to have one. You sure?"

Arthur bit his lip. One wouldn't hurt, and he was tired of feeling enslaved by his physique. "Sure. Why not?"

She smiled. "I'll get them."

She wandered over to the little ice cream cart, and Arthur smiled, happily. The sun was warm, he was in Paris, he was with a lovely young woman, and he was about to-

"Arthur?"

He blinked. Standing in front of him was a familiar face. Swallowing, he pulled his features into a smile.

"Jared!" He exclaimed, as the photographer smiled at him. "How are you?" The photographer was a freelancer who had taken hundreds of shots of him over the last few years. "Good to see you!"

"Likewise," Jared nodded, his light green eyes twinkling. "I'm glad I bumped into you - I should thank you. Remember that shoot I did with you for _GQ _last year?"

Arthur did. He'd modelled an expensive suit, balanced on a sports car, and contracted flu from having to hand around in freezing cold studios for days. "Yes," he said, honestly.

"Well," Jared said, his grin practically splitting his face. "It got me nominated for an award. Best male shot!"

Arthur blinked. "Congratulations," he said, sincerely.

"No, its thank you. Or your parents. Whoever gave you those incredible genes." Arthur blushed, and then noticed Ariadne waving to him. "Arthur! Flavour?"

He thought quickly. "Vanilla, please!" he called back. Jared's eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

"Ice cream?" his tone was half wondering, half accusatory. "You're eating ice cream?"

"Why not?" Arthur said, defensively. He began to feel slightly insulted as the older man started to laugh.

"Arthur, you have a fashion shoot in two weeks!" he exclaimed. "Remember, the camera adds ten pounds! How is it going to cope if you turn up looking bloated?"

"From one vanilla cone?" Arthur blinked. "I think I can handle it!"

Jared was nodding, his expression one of mock-seriousness. "Oh, sure. By the way, whose the chick?" He raised an eyebrow. "Not your usual type!"

Arthur looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Jared said, his tone taking on a slightly sharper edge, "she's about two feet too short, and let's face it, kind of plain."

Arthur felt a sting of anger. "She's natural."

"I'll say." Jared chuckled. "Give me artificial anyday."

"Oh, she's only the au pair," Arthur said, hurriedly. "I'm staying with some friends, she offered to show me round Paris." As the words fell out of his mouth, he felt a surge of shame. Jared shook his head.

"Jesus, Art, what happened?" he began to laugh. "You're eating ice cream and hanging out with some plain little home help." He leaned forward. "Stop by my place," he said, beguilingly. "I have an apartment in the centre. Girls, coke, you name it..."

Arthur blinked. Jared's lifestyle was one that Motley Crue would find hard to keep up with. "Um..."

"Come on," he said, softly. "Here's my number." He shoved a business card into Arthur's hand, and winked. "See you around. And go easy on the food," he added. "Wide angled lenses are kind of hard to work with!"

He sauntered away, and Ariadne approached. "Here you go!"

"Thank you," he said, slightly nervously. He took the ice cream, and licked it. Suddenly, he felt a twinge of nausea. "Listen, do you mind if we head back?" his tone was pleading. "I'm feeling kind of tired."

"Oh, of course." Ariadne nodded. "Let's go!"

They began to walk back, Arthur licking the cone, trying to shove Jared's ugly words to the back of his mind.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Thank you for all the lovely reviews, means a lot!**

Arthur sighed and turned over. He'd walked back to the house in near silence, his thoughts jumbled and confused. Ariadne had attempted conversation a couple of times, but his answers had been short, and eventually, she'd stopped trying.

He swallowed. Guilt was beginning to churn his stomach. Jared, he was prepared to admit, had upset him. He'd looked at Arthur so accusingly when he'd realised he was about to eat ice cream; practically sneered at Ariadne. Arthur curled up, and glowered into the pillow. Jared was such a douche bag, he thought, aggressively. So keen to appear in with the in crowd.

He rolled over, an unwanted memory flashing to the forefront of his mind. A party last year, at Jared's. He remembered Jared murmuring about how he had a business assignment for Arthur, which they could discuss after the guests had started to leave. The host had been overly keen to push Arthur to try cocaine, which he'd refused.

"Aw, come on," Jared had crooned, his eyes glinting. "How else are you going to keep that body?" Smiling, he'd emptied some of the fine white powder onto a mirror, and began to cut it. Arthur watched, hesitantly, aware that all eyes at the party were beginning to turn to look at him. He swallowed. "I don't know, I mean-"

"Come on," Jared said, his smile beginning to twist. "I think you know you want to, it will do you good."

Arthur shook his head. "No, thanks. Not my style." Picking up his drink, he began to walk out of the bedroom, feeling Jared's eyes boring into his back. As he left, Arthur had an uncomfortable feeling he'd made an enemy out of the photographer.

The next time they'd met, it had been at a shoot. Jared had merely eyed Arthur, and smiled. "Looking a little puffy," he'd commented. Then, noting he'd rattled the younger man, proceeded to photograph him.

The following day, Eames had received the negatives of the prints, and shaken his head. "You're not looking too good in these," he'd commented. Arthur had swallowed, seemingly shrinking into the leather chair opposite him.

"Well, Jared clearly shot me from an unflattering angle," he responded. Eames shook his head.

"No," he said, flatly. "Truth is, you're getting out of condition. Your body is your fortune Arthur!"

Arthur shook his head, trying to loose the grip of the memory. He sighed again, and stretched. He badly wanted to sleep, but was concerned he was appearing anti-social to Ariadne. He turned over, closing his eyes, promising himself another half hour.

Suddenly, his cell phone shrilled. He groaned. He flicked one eye open, reached out, and scooped the plastic device off the bedside table, sliding it open. "Hello?"

"Arthur! You awake?"

He closed his eyes. Eames. "What time is it where you are?"

"Oh, its about 9am," the agent said, jovially. "Its just..." he paused, which made Arthur feel uneasy. "I had a phone call from Giovanni."

Arthur exhaled slowly. "Giovanni?" He'd been convinced that Jared had contacted Eames.

"Yes, Giovanni! The designer!" Eames' words were practically tumbling over themselves. "He wants you for his summer collection!"

Arthur choked slightly. "Eames, I, um-"

"Arthur, do you want to know how much money he'd going to offer?"

The younger man bit his lip. "Um-"

"Well, take a guess."

"I-"

"Allright, I'll let him tell you in person."

"In person? Eames, I'm in Paris!"

"And so is he!" Eames' tone was triumphant. "In fact, I've arranged for you to meet him, tomorrow. Make sure you wear something flattering, ok? And Arthur..."

"Yes?" he said, guardedly.

"I've had a phone call from Jared."

His heart sank. "What did he have to say for himself?"

"That you're looking remarkably well." Eames' voice dropped a notch. "I know what that means. Stop gorging yourself, ok? You get porky, no contract with Giovanni."

"I know," Arthur said, annoyed. "I had one ice cream, its not a crime!" Eames chuckled, and Arthur knew that he was allowing himself to be riled.

"Oh, by the way. This girl...the one at the house...whats she like?"

Arthur gritted his teeth. "She's incredibly nice. Attractive, too. Makes me laugh."

"Wow." Eames sounded impressed. "Well, stay out of the gossip columns. You know every frustrated woman in the States fantasises about you!"

"Eames!"

"Sorry, Artie, just telling you the truth. So, this meeting is tomorrow, three pm, at the Hotel L'Andre. Be there promptly. I mean it."

"OK," Arthur said slowly, wondering what excuse he could spin to Ariadne. He swallowed. "I'll call tomorrow, OK?"

"Fine." Arthur clicked off, and sighed. Closing his eyes, he tried to think of an excuse to give Ariadne. Eventually, he pulled himself off the bed, and began to head downstairs.

She was sitting in the lounge, sipping a glass of iced tea. She looked up, and smiled. "Hi. How are you?"

Arthur nodded. "I'm good." He sat down, feeling hesitant, and ill-at-ease. He looked at her. "Um, Ari?"

She met his eyes. "Yes, Arthur?"

"Um, there's something about me you should know."

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	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Thank you for reading and reviewing the previous chapter!**

Arthur swallowed. "Um, Ariadne, I haven't been entirely honest with you. You see, I'm-"

He stopped. His eyes were focused on the magazine that she had open upon her lap. On the glossy double page spread was a photograph of a young woman that he recognised. With a jolt, he realised that Ariadne was looking at the picture of a woman he'd nearly had a brief fling with a few months earlier.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Ariadne said, and Arthur detected an undertone of envy and defeat in her voice. "Really stunning."

Arthur blinked. In the flesh, she'd seemed pleasant enough. They'd met at a party, and he'd suggested they have dinner together. It had turned out to be an endurance test of who would eat the least - he grimaced, remembering how she'd pushed a few lettuce leaves around her plate, whilst he felt obliged to nibble on a steak. When he'd gently broached that she might like to try something more substantial, she'd looked shocked.

"Oh, I can't!" She whined. "My cellulite!" She looked fretful, and reaching inside her shoulder bag, pulled out a packet of chewing gum. "I shouldn't eat anymore, really! I'm turning into a hippo!"

Arthur blinked. "Um, I think you're really pretty small for an alleged hippo," he'd said, trying to be comforting, and make light of the situation. She'd looked at him as though he'd slapped her.

"Arthur!" She'd almost shreiked. "Are you telling me that you think I'm fat?" She'd grabbed her purse. "I'll have you know I'm a stomach flu away from a size double zero!"

He'd blinked, shocked. "Summer! Don't you think that's a little-"

She'd glared at him.

"Extreme," he finished weakly. Scowling, her face a mask of anger, she'd got up, her chair scraping along the floor.

"Well, its obvious what type of women you're into," she snapped. "Plus sizes!"

"At least they eat!" he snapped. She looked at him, and laughed, mockingly. "What?" he said, defensively.

"Arthur," she said, her tone patronising. "We're models. We're paid not to eat. Thats the deal. Every fat girl wants to be me, and wants to date you. Thats the reality. And they'll just cry themselves to sleep because we're both out of their league. We're paid to make people feel bad about themselves, and to spend their money trying to become what they're not ever going to. That's the deal."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "If you say so."

"I know so. So don't ever try and make out that you think I should eat more than salad ever again!"

He winced, remembering the encounter. He'd then taken her back to her apartment, and left, resolving never to go near her socially again. The next day, he'd confided to Eames, who'd roared with laughter.

"Oh, dear," he said, grinning, "you have so much to learn!"

"I'm not naive," Arthur defended himself. "How was I to know she'd react like that? Jesus, I suggest she have something more substantial, and-"

His agent was shaking his head. "Arthur. Honestly. Anyone would think you didn't realise how lucky you are!" He leaned forward. "These women are a man's fantasy!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Would you date them?"

"Well, er, no," Eames admitted. "They're a little self-obsessed." He sighed, and picked up his espresso. "But, face it. You sell a fantasy. Men look at you, and think 'if I wear his suits, and his aftershave, and his wrist watch, maybe I can have a woman who-'"

"pushes lettuce around her plate. And probably makes herself vomit, its really attractive. Not." the younger man snapped. "Eames, I'm sorry, but some of these girls have lifestyles a doctor should know about. And we encourage them, and-"

"Oh, don't get on your high horse," Eames snapped. "Its not a problem unless you make it one!" He shook his head. "Being skinny isn't the most important thing in life, Arthur, but at the moment, its the only thing in your life. Remember that."

Arthur nodded. "Of course."

"You ok?"

He blinked. Ariadne's voice had shattered his reverie. "Oh, yes," he said, quickly. He looked at the photo on the page. "I wouldn't compare yourself," he said, gently. "I have a friend who is a photographer, and he finds most of these girls reall ordinary looking. Its all make up, and lighting. They really don't look that great in the flesh."

"In the flesh?" Ariadne blinked. "Arthur, she hardly has any!"

"Oh, I know!" He said, quickly. "And its really not healthy. At all. Besides," He said, turning to look at her, "there's nothing wrong with how you look. You're healthy. Pretty. Natural."

She rolled her eyes. "You say that. I'm sure a male model would say I was too short, and too fat, if I ever met one!" She laughed, and tapped the magazine picture. "Not that a male model would ever be interested in me, I'm sure he'd go for a woman like this!"

Arthur felt himself flame slightly. Swallowing, he tried to smile.

"Look, beauty comes from the inside," he said, cringing as the words left his mouth. "It really does."

She shrugged, and smiled sadly. "Yes, but society thinks that everyone should be tall, thin, and gorgeous." She bit her lip. "And I'm short, unspectacular, and under-developed." She looked at the magazine. "I shouldn't read these, they just make me feel bad." She closed the magazine. "Make me realise there are standards I will never reach!"

Arthur swallowed, hoping she wouldn't notice his crimson stained cheeks. She turned to him, smiling. "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

He looked at her. "Um, can't remember. Can't have been important!" He blinked trying to find some words. "Do you, um, want to watch a movie or something?"

She smiled. "That would be nice."

He nodded, feeling relieved. "Great."

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	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Thank you for all the lovely reviews, means a lot!**

"Do you want some more?"

Arthur blinked. He and Ariadne had been sitting, with a flickering TV screen for company, for just over an hour. He swallowed, and after a brief thought, answered.

"Yes, why not?"

Smiling, she got up, walked into the kitchen, and returned with the carton of Ben and Jerry's. Arthur smiled as a scoop of chocolate and caramel ice cream hit the bowl. Lifting his spoon, he nodded appreciatively. "Thank you."

"Pleasure." She settled back down next to him, and helped herself to a portion. Leaning back, she commented. "I originally saw this in the theatre. Thought it was good then."

"I, um, didn't," he confessed, trying to pay attention to _The Dark Knight_. "I don't really get to the movies much." He felt a slight twinge of sadness. The only time he ever watched a movie was on a tiny screen attached to an airplane seat. In fact, he thought, he couldn't remember the last time he'd watched a movie, read a book, or just relaxed. He was usually so tired and numbed by the shoots that he was asleep before the plane even left the runway. He then looked down at the ice cream, feeling a stab of guilt. Ice cream was something that was strictly off limits, but he knew if he'd refused, Ariadne would ask questions. He dug his spoon in, and decided to enjoy it, banishing the thought of the meeting tomorrow to the back of his mind.

"You don't get to the movies?" Ariadne's brows pulled together in a perplexed frown. "I guess you must work really long hours!"

Arthur nodded. "Oh, I do." He leaned back, and looked at her. "But I think its because I don't really have anyone to go with." He winced, thinking he must sound pathetic. "I mean, most of my friends tend to work shorter hours, and therefore they go out before I get home." He stopped, realising he was making it sound worse. He frowned. In truth, he had very few friends. The bitchy, competitive nature of the business saw to that. The only friend he felt he really had was Eames, and Eames was starting to become extremely over-protective. He was also his agent - which meant he saw Arthur as a saleable commodity. He dug into the ice cream, conflicting thoughts swirling through his mind.

"Arthur? You ok?"

He looked up, and smiled. "Yeah, I guess. Its just...I don't really have many friends." He swallowed, and couldn't meet her eyes. Then, to his astonishment, he felt something warm and soft fall onto his arm. Her hand. He blinked, and smiled.

"I can't think why," Ariadne said softly. "You seem really sweet, and genuine." She smiled, and he felt his own begin to freeze. He coughed, and looked at the clock. "Um, its after 10pm." She blinked, and he realised it could be misinterpreted. "I, uh, have an appointment tomorrow. An artist," he said, hastily. "He's interested in submitting some of his designs to the card company."

"Oh." She looked at him, and he realised that his reason sounded unconvincing, even to his ears. "I, uh, should go to bed," he said, hastily, and hurried out of the room.

Ariadne watched him go, her face puzzled. Sighing, she picked up her ice cream, and continued to eat it. Something was prickling at the back of her mind. Something about Arthur, she decided, didn't quite fit. She knew it was something, and she was determined to find out what.

* * *

Arthur brushed down his shirt, and studied himself in the mirror. He looked fine, he decided. Fine enough to meet ewith Giovanni. Swallowing, he left the house, calling "bye!" to Ariadne over his shoulder.

He felt, as he walked towards the main city centre, like a criminal. A liar. But, he reflected, he couldn't tell her the truth - he felt superficial and shallow enough. As he entered the metro, he realised that a group of young women were looking at him, whispered. As he stood on the platform, he felt more self-conscious. Finally, one approached him.

"Excuse me?"

"Um, yes?" he said, politely.

"Hi," - he noticed she was also American- "My friends and I are wondering, are you Arthur Ogilvie? The model?"

Arthur felt himself begin to freeze. "Er, no," he said, a touch of coldness entering his voice. "I'm not. But thank you."

The girl nodded, and flushed slightly. Arthur turned away, feeling embarrassed and ill-at-ease. He was relieved when the metro arrived, and he hurried onto it. Admitting who he was felt almost shameful - _Youre not in love with or like me, its just an image, and it doesn't even exist. _

He got off, and walked to the hotel. He was supposed to be meeting Giovanni in the main lounge. As he entered, a polite concierge approached him. In fluent French, Arthur explained who he was meeting, and the concierge nodded. "This way, please."

Arthur followed him, barely noticing the luxurious surroundings. He had stayed in so many five star hotels that it was commonplace. As he walked into the lounge, he realised that sitting on two seat was a large, florid, paunchy man of over fifty, and a shrew-looking Japanese man. The older man got up first.

"Arthur!" he boomed, offering his hand. "How are you? I'm Peter Browning, Mr Giovanni's business manager. This is Mr Saito, who owns the fashion chain that Giovanni's new collection is being sold to."

Arthur swallowed. "Pleasure."

Saito nodded, his eyes flicking up and down Arthur, which made the younger man uncomfortable. He smiled. "Have a seat, Arthur. I saw you in the fashion show in London, late last year."

Arthur nodded.

"I didn't recognise you today." Saito said smoothly. "You've put on weight."

Arthur felt his cheeks stain crimson, Browning smiled reassuringly. "Its ok, Arthur. Eames tells us you do like your junk food, and you have a tendency to get plump, but trust me, you'll be back in shape in no time." He looked at him. "For this shoot, you'll need to drop at least 10 lbs, peferably in a couple of weeks."

"A couple of weeks?" Arthur croaked out.

"Yes," Browning nodded, and reaching into his brief case, produced a sheet. "This is a diet you can follow-"

Arthur's eyes widened. "You mean I drink water and cayenne pepper - and nothing else - for a week?"

"It'll get that weight off," Browning said reassuringly. "Arthur, Giovanni will not hire you if you're paunchy. Trust me."

Arthur swallowed. "I won't do it." He stood up. "Sorry, but I'm not going to abuse myself for this." He astonished himself with how firm his voice sounded.

"Arthur!" Browning stood up, matching him eye to eye. "I'd think very carefully about this. I'll ring you later, and I expect you to say "yes."

Arthur nodded. "Yes, you do that." Turning, he began to leave, the two men staring after him open mouthed.

* * *

Ariadne was tidying the kitchen, when she heard the letterbox. The mail. Dropping the cloth she was holding, she headed into the hallway, picking up the Cobb's post.

"Letters," she muttered, flicking through them. Then she looked at the wrapped magazine, and froze.

It was the latest issue of GQ. And on the front cover, dressed in a suit, was Arthur...or a man who looked very much like him.

She swallowed. Was he lying to her? Making fun of her? She remembered his little speech the previous night about how unhealthy models were, and flinched. Rolling the magazine up, she was determined to ask him when he arrived back.

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	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Ariadne bit her lip. The man on the cover looked so like Arthur, it had to be him. The same eyes, same cheekbones, same dark hair. Dressed immaculately in a suit, he looked like a poised, confident young man ready to take the world.

She swallowed. The magazine was wrapped in cellophane - if she opened it, she'd be opening someone else's property. She studied the cover, carefully. There was no name given to the cover model - just a large list of brightly coloured headlines, focusing on gadgets and style, plus the odd Hollywood name.

Ariadne straightened up, thinking. Arthur was a guest - she didn't want to make him uncomfortable. On the other hand, she'd happily prattled on last night about modelling, and he'd sat there, nodding and stating how unsexy they were. Was it possible that he knew...because he was one? She felt herself blush, remembering how she'd commented she thought she'd be too "short and fat" to a male model. Did he think that was a come-on?

"But wouldn't he defend modelling?" She wondered aloud. Picking up the magazine, she decided to see what he said about where he'd been, when he returned. Walking into the living room, she carefully slotted it into the rack near the couch. As she stood up, the phone rang. Flustered, she picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, may I speak to Arthur please?"

She blinked. The voice was British. "Um, I'm afraid he isn't here. Can I take a message?"

The voice chortled. "Oh, sweetheart, you're lovely. Yes, please do. Please tell him that Eames rang, and he'd better bloody ring me back!"

Ariadne decided to take a gamble. She was willing to bet that this Eames was somehow work-related. "Well, I'm sure he'll be back soon. He had to meet a designer about a greeting card idea."

There was a slight pause, and Eames spoke. "Oh, yes, I remember now. Arthur always has to work, even when he's on vacation!"

She smiled. "I guess so." Suddenly, she heard the scrape of a key in the front door. "Oh, I think he's back now, if you want to-"

"No, no, its fine, he can call me." Eames was insistent. "Thank you so much!"

He hung up. Ariadne stood, looking at the receiver. She heard footsteps, and turning, spotted Arthur walking up behind her. "Hey," he said, smiling. His face pulled into a frown as she looked at him. "You ok?"

"I, um, just got a phone call," she said, trying to hide the awkwardness she felt, standing in front of someone who could be on a magazine cover. Arthur's eyebrows went up. "Really? From who?"

"Eames," she said, carefully, watching his reaction. Arthur's face remained completely composed. He nodded. "Oh, yeah, he's a work buddy. I'll call him later. In fact-" he said, casually, checking his watch - "due to the time difference, I might call him tomorrow."

She nodded. "OK." Arthur looked so calm. Perhaps that was how he'd been trained, by photographers? To stand still and not show the merest flicker of emotion? The thought must have revealed itself on her face, because Arthur immediately shifted his weight to his other foot. She swallowed, and checked her watch. 6pm. Ariadne looked at him. Suddenly, she had an idea.

"Listen, I can cook for us tonight," she offered. "I was going to make risotto, is that ok?" _Carbohydrates, he won't touch them. Although he did eat ice cream - well, a few spoonfuls-_

"Sounds wonderful!" Arthur said, smiling. "Can I help you in any way?"

"Oh, no, its fine," she said, returning the smile, and beginning to feel like a game show hostess - all she did was grin at him. "You go take a shower, anything you need."

He nodded. "Thanks, might just do that." He turned, and hurried to the stairs. Nodding, she went into the kitchen. "Risotto," she muttered, "and salad. And bread," she added, as an afterthought. She blushed - he'd probably think she was planning to feed him into oblivion.

"But, its his reaction," she told the kitchen. "I can't just ask him outright - I need to find out another way!"

* * *

Arthur stretched on the bed, and groaned. The words Browning had said had stung him, deeply. _Paunchy. _Standing up, he looked in the mirror, turning to see himself from different angles.

"There's nothing wrong with me," he said, aloud, defiantly. "And I am not going to turn into -" he shuddered. "Robert Fischer."

He sat on the edge of the bed, and rubbed his chin. He and Fischer had always had a spiky relationship, not helped by the fashion press, that had happily pitted them against each other. He winced, remembering how one female journalist had written of Arthur's "smouldering sloe-eyed sexual intensity" pitted against Fischer's "glacial beauty - the man looks as though he's made of porcelain." Fischer had always been haughty and arrogant at shows, and once, had walked straight past him, not even bothering to make small talk. Arthur had merely raised his eyebrows, an action noted by Yusuf, one of the key backstage photographers.

"He has a problem," the other man commented. Arthur nodded. "Yeah, well." He shrugged, and left it. Until a few weeks later, when they were both in New York.

During rehersals for the show, Arthur had excused himself to the bathroom to check his skin - he was sure he was developing a rash, probably an allergy to the make-up they were using. He frowned, and poked his cheek - when he suddenly heard the sound of retching coming from one of the locked cubicles. Biting his lip, he ascertained which cubicle it was, and knocked.

"Hey, you ok?" he said softly. A slight choking sound followed, and then the sound of gagging. Then, after a couple of minutes, he heard the toilet flush. Slightly embarrassed, he stepped back, and hurried to the sink, turning a faucet on.

The door to the stall opened, and to his shock, Robert Fischer walked out. His face was flushed, and his eyes, Arthur noticed, slightly bloodshot. "Robert, are you ok?" Arthur offered, timidly. Fischer turned to him, his face tightening. "Leave it, all right Arthur? I'm sure you're rubbing your hands with glee at the condition I'm in."

Arthur blinked. "What?" He looked at the slightly older man. Fischer was taller than he was, with an lean angularity that meant clothes simply hung off him. "Robert, you look terr-"

"Oh, stop it, allright!" Fischer's voice held a note of anguish that Arthur had never heard before. "You want to know what my agent said to me the other day? 'Robert, if you get any heavier, you'll go through the runway!'" He leaned over, clutching the sink. "This way, I can still eat. I just never digest it."

Arthur's jaw dropped slightly. "Rob, you're probably thinner than I am-" He stopped, seeing Fischer's face darken. "But, listen, I don't thing making yourself vomit is a good idea." He stopped, painfully aware of how prissy and judgemental he sounded.

"Not anymore," Fischer said, breathing heavily. "I'm 32, my metabolism is slowing down, I'm too tired to exercise - I'm getting too fat to do this, Arthur! I need to control my weight somehow and this is the only way. Don't you dare tell anyone else what you heard!"

Arthur watched as the other man strode out. He leaned against the sink, shaken. Later that day, he watched Fischer as he glided down the runway, the cooing audience oblivious to the fact he was tearing his body apart.

"This is a dream," Arthur muttered. "You can keep it."

* * *

Ariadne focused on the risotto. "Butter," she muttered. "If he's a model, he won't touch it. And dressing on the salad," she added.

She blinked as she looked at the meal she'd made. It was heavy in calories, but, she felt, if Arthur really was as against dieting and modelling as he'd implied, he'd eat it. If it was him on the front of the magazine, he might not.

She took a deep breath, and began to carry the dishes to the table. As she heard his footsteps, she tried to keep her face composed. As he walked into the kitchen, she smiled.

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	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Ariadne bit her lip nervously as Arthur seated himself at the table. She lifted the lid off the steaming pot of risotto, and watched as he inhaled the scent.

"Wow, it smells great," he said, smiling. She nodded. "Thank you." She then gestured to the pot, and the other accompaniments on the table - salad, and bread. "Please, help yourself!"

Arthur swallowed, and lifted a spoonful of the mixture onto his plate. He blinked, suddenly imagining what his trainer would say to him: _Think of the carbs! Don't eat it! Do you want to get fat and throw your career away?_

He swallowed. "One portion won't hurt," he told himself. He loaded on some salad, and also decided to have a piece of bread. Ariadne was serving herself, and the two ate in companionable silence for a few minutes.

"So," Ariadne said, "what do you think?"

"Its great," he said, truthfully. Arthur couldn't remember the last time he'd had a meal that was home cooked. Most of the time, it was either room service, restaurants, or carefully calorie controlled meals that were home delivered. The last time someone offered to actually cook for him was a distant memory.

"Really?" She looked delighted, and he smiled at her. His mother. His mother was the last person who offered to cook for him, and as he thrust a forkful of risotto into his mouth, he vividly remembered how she'd greeted him.

* * *

He had't been home in eight months, and as he rang the doorbell, he felt unaccountably nervous. As the door opened, his mother looked at him, and gasped.

"Arthur!" She pulled him into an embrace, and then looked at him. "You're so thin!"

He bit his lip. "Hi Mom."

She was shaking her head. "What happened to you?"

"Well, its my job." He tried to sound reasonable. "I do model for a living!"

She looked at him. "You'll get sick!" he blinked; he hadn't expected his mother to sound quite so distraught. "You need some meat on your bones!"

"Mom," Arthur said, carefully, aware of how upset she was, "I'm ok, really, I-"

"How can you be ok?" his mother had asked. "You're practically a waif! Its not good for you!"

He'd given up. At dinner that night, he'd not protested when his mother had put a large portion of pasta on his plate, realising refusing to eat it would upset her even more. As a result, after a few days, he'd returned, and been greeted by his trainer.

"Arthur!" Pete was horrified. "You're bloated! What happened!" He prodded Arthur's waist. "You've expanded!"

Arthur sighed. "I went home. Visited my mom." He flushed slightly. "She insisted I had pasta." He immediately felt guilty - she hadn't tied him to a chair and made him eat it, it had been his choice.

"What happened, did you get gorged and force fed?" Pete was shaking his head. "Your mother has a lot to answer for! Do you want to have to waddle down the catwalk?"

Suddenly, Arthur felt guilty. All he'd done was go home, and indulged his mother's desire to feed him, and suddenly, he was being made to feel bad for it. He swallowed his resentment, and duitfully got on the treadmill.

Arthur shook his head, trying to dislodge the memory. He'd been put on a strict liquid diet for three days, which had made him not only hungry, but also slightly depressed. He stuck his fork into the salad.

"Do you cook?" Ariadne asked suddenly. Arthur blinked. He could toast bread, and make smoothies...but he'd become increasingly lazy when cooking. He swallowed, realising how spoiled he'd become. But still...eating risotto in the kitchen with Ariadne tasted better than any piece of cordon bleu steak. He shook his head. "No," he said, honestly, "not really."

"I guess your job takes up most of your time," she offered, timidly. He nodded, and was relieved she didn't press him further. "Yeah, its pretty busy."

"Arthur," she asked, carefully. "I need to tell you something."

"Sure, what is it?"

"The risotto..."

"Yes?"

"It has butter in it," she said, flushing slightly. "I never asked if you were allergic to diary."

He swallowed. Butter. Milk, cheese, cream, all strictly off limits. No wonder it had tasted so good. He licked his bottom lip, and looked at her.

"No, I'm not." He looked at the pot. "Can I have another helping?"

She nodded "Of course!"

As he loaded another helping onto his plate, he felt a stab of guilt. Shrugging his shoulders, he picked up his fork, and began to eat. As he did so, he realised his cellphone was vibrating in his pocket. Frowning, he pulled it out, and squinted at the caller id.

_Eames. _

Smiling, he clicked it off. "No-one important," he said to Ariadne. "Do you want some more wine?"

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur relaxed, and stretched out on the bed. Dinner had been good - he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed a meal so rich in carbohydrate. He grinned, remembering the risotto, bread, and then the cheesecake.

He shrugged. He'd spent the last ten years being reduced to a notch on the scales; it was time to start living as a human being. Eames could fire him, if he liked- he was getting too old for this type of transitory existence. He had a house and apartment he never spent any time in; his education was unfinished due to being plucked straight out of his sophomore year at College. He paused, blinking.

_Maybe I could go back to college, actually finish my degree. Actually complete something, use my brain for once!_

He swallowed. Eames had once tentatively suggested he try acting as an alternate career; Arthur had looked at him, his facial expression freezing.

"Well, what's wrong?" the older man had asked, defensively. "You're so photogenic, Arthur, you'd be great on film!"

"Eames, I don't think I can act," Arthur had said, quietly. "Remember the sit com you wanted me to audition for?" He paused. "I couldn't deliver a line to save my life!"

"But the audience kept on whistling at you," Eames said, grinning. Arthur rolled his eyes, exasperated.

"Of course they did. They were teenage girls!" He shook his head. "Its not going to work. I'm going to have to think of something else I can do." He looked at his agent. "Maybe I could re-train, become an architect, or a researcher, or-"

"Arthur!" Eames was shaking his head. "Be realistic! You have a recognisable face! You can't just go into working in a normal job!"

"So what do you suggest?" Arthur looked at him, annoyed. "You suggesting I end up on reality TV, with all the other has-beens?" His lip curled. "Some brain dead television, like _Celebrity Big Brother?_

Eames sighed. "Arthur. I'm not. But, lets face it. If you go into a regular job, people might think you're unable to hack it in this business."

"No." Arthur shook his head. "They'll think I actually want a life."

He sighed, and closed his eyes. An ordinary life. A job, with a point, where he could actually use his brain. Where no-one would care what he looked like. Where he got to spend time at home, with a girlfriend, who actually looked like a woman, and not a coat hanger. He sighed. A nice, peaceful, ordinary-

His cell phone shrilled. Groaning, he knew he couldn't ignore it this time. He pulled it out of his pocket, and clicked it on. "Hello?"

"Arthur, what the bloody hell are you playing at?"

He blinked. "Hi, Eames."

"Don't even try it," the British man said, angrily. "I've had some very interesting phone calls today. From Peter Browning. He was somewhat surprised to see you've turned into a blob!"

"I haven't!" Arthur said, defensively. "I've only been here a couple of days!"

"And been stuffing your face non-stop!" Arthur winced; Eames actually sounded furious. "Arthur, just stop it! You'll end up a total blob, and then your career will be over! There's no market for male plus size models!"

"Well, you know what?" Arthur snapped. "Maybe I've had it with being a model. Maybe I'd like to try living in the real world!"

"Really?" Eames began to chuckle. "You, real world? Forget it! You live in bubble! You're like a precious calf thats been nurtured for the public!"

"Not any more!" Arthur's voice was firm. "Eames, I am going to live a normal life for the next week. I'm not going on anymore meetings with designers, or photographers! I'm going to try living normally. Dating normally."

"OK," Eames was chuckling. "Good luck! Within three days you'll be dying from the lack of attention, so I'll speak to you then! Oh, and Arthur, do yourself a favour and hang a 'do not feed me' sign around your neck! Bye!"

He clicked off, leaving Arthur feeling angry, but also exhilarated. He looked at himself in the mirror. So what if he'd put on a kilo since arriving in Paris? It felt good to actually eat something. He remembered Robert Fisher's gaunt hollow cheeks, and shuddered. Swallowing, he pulled on a sweater, and decided to go downstairs.

_I'll ask Ariadne if she wants to go for a walk, maybe a drink at a bar, to say thank you for-_

Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door echo through the townhouse. He frowned slightly, but assumed it was someone for Ariadne. He began to walk down the stairs, then heard voices.

"I'm sure Arthur's in, I'll just-"

"Why, thank you. You're very kind." Arthur began to freeze. He recognised that voice. It was haughty, and slightly arrogant. His heart began to sink. He began to move down the stairs, hoping he was mistaken. As he saw the top of her head, he realised he wasn't. He got to the foot of the staircase, and realised Ariadne's expression was stunned. He swallowed, facing the tall, and very attractive young woman framed in the doorway.

"Um, Summer," he murmured. "How nice to see you."

**All readers appreciated, and I'd love some reviews, thank you!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Thank you for reading and reviewing the previous chapter!**

Arthur blinked, taking in the new addition to the hallway. Summer smiled, and flicked her long, glossy hair back over her shoulders. He turned to Ariadne, who looked bewildered.

"Ariadne, this is Summer," he said, choosing his words carefully. "She's a friend of mine." He cringed inwardly, noting how her eyes narrowed at this comment. Ariadne blinked, and smiled.

"Oh, pleased to meet you," she said, trying to put the other young woman at ease. "Arthur didn't mention he had a friend coming to visit-"

"I bet he didn't," Summer snapped, and turned to him. "What have you been telling the au pair, Arthur?"

Arthur felt a surge of anger, and Ariadne blushed, furiously. "Ariadne's not the au pair, she's house-sitting for a family friend. We're the ones who are intruding." He turned, and realised with a pang that Ariadne was already making her way back down the hall, and heading for the staircase. "Ari..." Biting his lip, he turned back to Summer, whose overly painted face and strong perfume were combining to make him wince.

"Well, don't worry," Summer said, dismissively. "I'm not planning on staying. I'm booked into a hotel downtown." She turned to Arthur, and raised an eyebrow. "You are coming to Jared's party tonight, aren't you? _Everyone _will be there."

Arthur blinked. "Um, I was going to go out, take a walk, maybe go to a bar..."

"Arthur," Summer was shaking her head. "Please. People like you do not go to bars! They go to parties to be seen!" She grabbed his arm. "Come on, you have to get dressed! Put something decent on! There'll be press there, guaranteed!"

Arthur shook her off. "Summer. I do not want to go to a party. I do not want to be seen. I just want to-"

"Stay in, and eat ice cream?" her tone was mocking, and she looked Arthur up and down. "Jared said you were getting fat - boy was he right!"

Arthur looked at her in disbelief. Was it possible he'd ever found this rude, insulting, narcissistic individual attractive? Shaking his head, he glared at her.

"I'm not," he said, defensively. "Jesus, I'm on vacation! If I want to eat what I like and gain a kilo or two - everyone else does!"

"Arthur!" Summer looked at him, and he winced. "You are a model! Someone to aspire to! Every plain little dumpy creature wants you to be her boyfriend - not a carbon copy of the average guy she can get! Now, go upstairs, and get changed! We are going to this party!"

Arthur looked at her, and raised an eyebrow. "You're serious?"

She nodded. "Yes, I'm serious." She narrowed her eyes. "What is it? Please don't tell me you want that little _nonentity _to go with you?"

Arthur couldn't believe it. "She's not a nonentity," he said, his tone ice cold. "She's funny, intelligent, sensitive. And she can cook and eat food without screaming and shrivelling up!"

"I know," Summer said, mockingly. "Did you see the size of those hips?"

Arthur's eyes widened - Ariadne was petite, and perfectly proportioned. There was nothing wrong with her body, and it had been refreshing being with someone who wasn't constantly checking her reflection. As for her hips - he stared at Summer in disbelief.

"You bitch," he spat out. "How dare you?" He took a step forward. "Just...go. Out. Now."

"Oh, dear," Summer said, mockingly. "Are you upset I insulted your plain little girlfriend?" She smiled as Arthur blushed. "Tell you what. Come to the party, and I won't start telling everyone you're turning into a fat loser!"

Arthur looked at her, and felt a rush of loathing. Why had he never really seen this? That underneath her superficial beauty, there was nothing there. Suddenly, an idea came to him.

"Yes, Summer," he said, looking forlorn. "You're right. I will come to the party with you."

She smirked. "Thought so. Go and get changed! Go and get a suit on!"

Arthur nodded, and clenching his jaw, stalked upstairs to the bedroom. Opening the closet door, he began flicking through the rows of suits. He didn't notice the door to the other guest bedroom closing.

* * *

Ariadne blinked. She felt stunned. She'd heard the ugly exchange, and Summer's cutting comment. Biting her lip, she went and looked in the mirror.

"Nothing wrong with how I look," she said, almost defiantly. "Nothing."

But a little pang had pierced her heart, and not wanting to hear the rest of the heated conversation, she closed the door.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur swallowed, and adjusted his tie. The three-piece suit seemed to hang heavily, and itched. He frowned; over the last couple of days, he'd got very use to the feeling of combats, jeans, and t-shirts. Dressing like a normal person, rather than someone who was on permanent display.

He rubbed his cheek. He looked fine, he decided. So he'd been eating carbs? So what? He shrugged into the suit jacket, and headed downstairs. He looked through the lounge door. Ariadne was sitting in the living room, seemingly absorbed in a novel. She looked up as he peered in, and smiled, hesitantly.

He swallowed, wondering how much of the heated exchange earlier she'd heard. "I, um, need to go out." He blinked. "Just for a couple of hours."

She nodded. "Fine." Her head went down again, focusing on her book.

He coughed, and she looked up again. "I'll see you later."

"Possibly," she said, her voice slightly muffled. "I might be in bed. Have you got a key?"

He nodded again. "I have."

"Good." She turned a page, and feeling himself redden with embarrassment and awkwardness, began to walk to the front door.

He turned his head, and looked back. She didn't look up. Sighing heavily, he closed the door behind him, and hailed a cab.

* * *

"Arthur!" Jared opened the door himself. He was, the younger man noted, already looking slightly dishevelled, and flushed. "Come on in!"

Arthur stepped gingerly over the threshold. He noted the room was already fairly full, people talking and laughing. Some of them waved; most merely looked disinterested as he walked in. A couple of women turned their heads his way, and he realised with a stab of embarrassment they were sizing him up. He shrugged, and turned away.

"Let me get you a drink," Jared insisted, and literally pulled him over to the bar. A young man in a white shirt stood behind it. "What do you want, Arthur?"

Arthur swallowed. "Water, please."

"Nothing stronger?" Jared's voice was slightly jarring. "Really?"

"No, water's fine," Arthur insisted. The bartender shrugged, and handed his a glass of still mineral water, which he accepted, and began to sip, slowly. Suddenly, he heard a shy voice. "Arthur?"

He blinked, and turned. A young woman was standing next to him, also clutching a glass. He studied her face carefully; then, recognition dawned. It was Anne, a model he'd met at a shoot two years previously. He blushed slightly, thinking of the few furtive meetings he'd had with her. His interest had been sparked by the fact that she was well-read, and actually seemed to enjoy talking to him. They'd gone on a few dates, then drifted. She smiled, putting him at his ease.

"How are you?" she asked, warmly.

"Oh, I'm good," he said, almost mechanically, swirling the water in his glass. "Its been, what, over a year now?"

She nodded. "It has." She studied him. "You look great," she said, sincerely. "Really healthy."

He felt himself go scarlet. "I look fat, you mean." He looked at the floor. "I mean, I relax, gain a kilo, and suddenly I'm made to feel like a blimp!"

He looked at her. She was grinning. "Arthur, I'm in no position to criticise. Haven't you noticed?"

He looked. A large, obvious pregnancy bulge was protruding from her middle. He looked up, and suddenly realised she looked better than he'd ever seen her. Her skin was glowing, and so were her eyes.

"You look gorgeous," he said, sincerely. "You really do."

"Why, thank you." She smiled again. "That makes a change. All I've had from my agent is how I resemble a human zeppelin, and if I don't deflate after the birth, thats it, no more work." She rolled her eyes. "But, you know what? I don't care anymore. I'm married, I'm happy, I'm about to-"

"You're married?" Arthur interrupted. She nodded. "Yeah, we kept it quiet. He's a writer, doesn't like being in the press." She waved across the room, and a tall, sandy haired man approached. He nodded at Arthur. "Hey."

"Arthur, this is Dean, my husband." The man offered his hand, and Arthur shook it. "He's just got back from the Middle East."

"Wow," Arthur said, slightly taken aback. "You write for international newspapers?"

Dean nodded. "Yep. Freelance. Just done a story for the London Times." He pulled Anne close to him. "But, I tell you, I'd rather be here."

Arthur bit his lip. They both looked so happy. So contented. And Anne looked so...beautiful. So comfortable. He felt a surge of anger towards her agent. _Since when did being pregnant mean you're fat? _

"So," Anne said, smiling. "You met anyone?" He blushed. "I, uh, well-"

"Arthur!" A voice suddenly ripped through the room. He sighed, and looked up. Summer was coming towards him, a glass full of a lurid coloured liquid in her hand. He swallowed, wondering what was going to come next.

"I thought you'd be here earlier!" She scolded. She turned, and nodded to Anne. "Hi."

The other woman nodded. "Hey, Summer." She looked at Arthur. "Good to see you Art." Under her breath she muttered "good luck."

As she and her husband turned away, Summer faced Arthur, directly. "Honestly, you shouldn't just sneak in like that." She took a swallow of her drink. "And as for her - she'll explode if she gets any bigger!"

Arthur felt a rush of anger. "She's pregnant. Sorry, do you expect someone to stay a twig?"

"I expect them not to look like that!" She retorted. She looked at him. "Just so you know, I don't intend on letting myself ever get in that state!"

Arthur smiled at her. "Suits me. I don't intend on ever getting you into it!"

Her jaw dropped. "Arthur. Come on. You know we'd be good together."

He swallowed. "Um, I-" Suddenly, he spotted Robert Fischer, standing at the edge of the room. "Excuse me."

To her astonishment, he turned, and left her by herself.

* * *

Ariadne sighed, and put her book down. If that was the type of girl Arthur was used to...she shivered.

_Give it up, _she told herself. _You're too plain, too lacking in interest for him. _

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Frowning, she got up and made her way to it.

* * *

"Robert," Arthur said, approaching him. "How are you?"

The older man stared back, haughtily. "I'm fine. You?" His eyes flickered over Arthur. "You've filled out, a little."

Arthur gritted his teeth. "At least I'm not damaging my internal organs by making myself-"

"Sssh!" Robert said, hoarsely. He leaned in, closely. "Don't you dare! Do you realise how little work I'd get if I didn't do that?"

"Yes," Arthur whispered back. "And do you realise how little life you'll have if you keep on doing it?"

* * *

****Ariadne blinked. Standing on the doorstep was a tall, broad man, dressed in several clashing colours. He was examining a cell phone, and as he looked up, she blinked.

"Um, hello," she said, shyly. He smiled, and winked at her.

"Hello there. Is Arthur in? I'm Eames."

**All reviews appreciated and read, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Ariadne swallowed as she took in the older man. He smiled at her. "May I come in?" he asked, politely. "I do know Dom and Mal - I was at their wedding."

"Oh!" Ariadne, said, flustered. "I'm so sorry! Please do!" Feeling awkward, she ushered him inside, and headed for the kitchen, quickly filling the kettle with water.

"Can I get you coffee?" She asked, feeling unsettled. He was good-looking, she decided, and also well-mannered - but he seemed to be sizing her up, running his eyes over her. Feeling insecure, she reached for the filter coffee. It was on a high shelf, and she flushed as she tried to get it.

Eames spotted her difficulty. "Here, let me," he said, kindly. He reached for it, easily, and handed it to her. She nodded.

"Thank you," she said, her skin colouring. "I'm too short."

"Nonsense," Eames said, smiling. "Good things come in small packages."

Ariadne blinked. The line was completely cheesy, yet it sounded, from his lips, so sincere. She decided to focus upon making the coffee.

Eames was settled at the breakfast bar. Swallowing, she spoke.

"So, you know Dom and Mal, and Arthur?"

"Oh yes," Eames said, nodding. "Known Dom for some years. I work with Arthur."

She smiled, shyly. "He did mention that. Greeting cards, isn't it?"

Eames raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yes, yes it is. I'm, um, general manager."

She nodded. "It sounds great." The kettle boiled, and she poured the water onto the coffee grounds. "He's out tonight, a party."

"Really?" Eames looked at her. "Well, I do hope he behaves himself."

She flushed slightly. "I'm sure he will. He said it was at a friend's place...Jared's?"

Eames choked slightly. "Jared?"

"Yes."

"Oh, well, he can handle himself." Eames smiled appreciatively as she passed him a mug of black coffee. "Now, enough about Arthur. What about you?"

* * *

"Robert." Arthur looked at him. "You can't carry on like this. You're-"

"I'm what?" Arthur shivered as the icy blue eyes bored into his.

"You're sick." Arthur let the words fall between them, heavily. "There is a name for this, Rob. Bulimia. Its incredibly-"

"Save it!" Robert's tone was hoarse. "Just stop it!" He fished in his pocket, and brought out a carton of cigarettes. Arthur looked at him as he placed one in his mouth.

"It stops me eating," Robert explained. Arthur grabbed his elbow.

"Come on."

"What?"

"We're going for a walk."

* * *

"Well," Ariadne began, sitting opposite Eames. "I'm training to be an Architect."

He nodded. "Fantastic." He took a sip of coffee. "How long have you been in Paris?"

"A couple of years," she said, fiddling with her mug. "Not sure if I'll stay after I graduate, though."

Eames smiled. "Keep things fluid, eh?"

She nodded. "I guess." She looked at her hands. "Listen, I wondered...can I ask you something?"

"Of course." Eames looked at her. "Even though we're practically strangers."

"Well, um, a girl called Summer was here earlier..." she flushed with embarrassment, and Eames' eyes narrowed. "Do she and Arthur have an, um, history?"

"Summer?" Eames looked slightly abashed. "She's in town?" He began to chuckle. "Oh dear."

Ariadne felt her grip on her mug tightening. "So, they're...a couple?" She felt her heart begin to sink. The other woman had been so rude, so unpleasant, and her cheeks warmed as she remembered the insult Summer had tossed out so casually.

"I believe they had a thing," Eames said, seriously. He smiled at her. "But, enough of that. Talk to me. Where do you recommend I take you tomorrow?"

Ariadne blinked. "Excuse me?"

Eames' didn't miss a beat. "Dinner. Tomorrow. Where should I take you?"

* * *

"It's no good, Arthur." Robert looked at him, and took a puff on his cigarette. "I need to do this. I lose my most lucrative contract-" he shivered.

Arthur looked at the other man. They were standing on the balcony of Jared's apartment. "Isn't your father a multi-millionaire?"

"He's cut me out of the will," Robert confessed. He took another drag on his cigarette. "Told me that he was disappointed that I was a model. Told me he'd hoped I'd have a little more pride in myself." He exhaled slowly. "If I'm not a model, then I'm nothing. I left High School, and then started this." He looked at Arthur. "I doubt any College would be willing to take me on."

Arthur swallowed. "Do you really think this is worth hurting yourself over?"

Robert shook his head. "Its better than being fat," he said, his lip curling. Turning his back, he headed back into the main room, leaving Arthur gazing over the Paris rooftops. Suddenly, his cellphone beeped, and frowning, he pulled it out of his pocket.

"Hello?"

"Arthur. Guess where I am?"

Arthur sighed. Eames. "I have no idea."

"I'm in Paris. And whilst I'm looking forward to lecturing you on your new allegedly portly physique, I've found a distraction."

Arthur gritted his teeth. "Yes?"

"Ariadne. She's absolutely lovely. I'm taking her tomorrow night. You've no objection, I hope?"

**Please review - it is appreciated!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur couldn't believe it. He coughed, and then spoke. "Eames?"

"Yes, Arthur?"

"Did you just say-" the younger man paused - "that you are taking Ariadne out for dinner, tomorrow?"

"I did." Eames' voice was infuriatingly smug, and Arthur could just imagine the older man looking at the young woman as a cat did before it pounced on a mouse. "She is utterly lovely. Very clever - I could talk to her about books, and well, other things all day."

"You don't read." Arthur snapped. He felt a stab of jealousy, and blinked.

"How rude. I read your press cuttings."

"You know what I mean. When was the last time you read an invention called a book?"

"And when was the last time you did?" Arthur winced. He wasn't much of a reader, mainly due to the tiredness of constant travelling. Eames chuckled. "I think thats touche, darling."

Arthur bristled. "Look, don't you dare-"

"Dare what?" Eames asked, innocence in his voice. "Now, Artie, remember - not too much food or wine tonight. You've got a shoot tomorrow."

"I- what?"

"Yes, sorry, Alex Roberts is in town, and wants to photograph you for a women's magazine. He rang me earlier. Now, get home early, get too bed! Night!"

The phone went dead, and Arthur stared at it, speechless. Suddenly, he felt an arm go round his shoulders. He turned. Jared was standing, smiling at him. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and his breath, Arthur noticed, wincing, reeked of alcohol. He nodded at the younger man.

"You know, Art, if you want to shape up quickly, I can offer you something to help." His tone was suggestive, and Arthur began to gently disengage his arm from his shoulder.

"Thanks, but there's nothing wrong with me," Arthur insisted. He turned and began to walk away. Jared leaned over, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"You sure about that?" He cocked his head. "I mean, everyone here-" he waved his hand at the gathering - "Has been commenting on how you're looking a little..."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "A little what?"

"Plump," Jared finished, his tone satisfied. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a bag, filled with fine white powder. "Come on, Art, what do you say?"

Arthur shook his head. On top of Eames suddenly arriving, and news of an unexpected shoot, this was all he needed. "No, thanks." He turned, and began to walk again. "I need to get back."

"Jared?" Arthur stopped again, recognising Robert's voice. "Is that what- what I think it is?"

Arthur blinked. Jared's smiled was almost cruel. "It is, Rob. Want some? Help keep the weight off, and lets face it-"

Robert was practically grabbing at the bag. "Please. I would like the help."

"Well," Jared said, smiling, "clearly you don't want to end up too fat to work. Here-" he handed Robert the bag, the light catching and dancing on the powder. "Enjoy it!"

Shocked, Arthur watched Robert walk in the direction of the bathroom. Feeling a rush of anger, he grabbed at Jared. "How could you do that?" he hissed. The other man raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Give him that!" Arthur's face was turning crimson with anger. "Its cocaine! He'll-"

"Do whatever it takes to stay on top," Jared replied, coldly. "Look at him Art. He's getting old! He'll be getting too fat to do runway or photography soon! He knows what he has to do!"

"He's bulimic," Arthur said, his tone equally glacial. "I caught him once, in-" He stopped. Jared was smirking, and then burst out laughing.

"You think I don't know that?" He spluttered, clutching his wine glass. "Jesus, Arthur! How naive are you? Everyone knows Rob Fischer pukes his guts up! He fainted at a photo shoot once, and we just picked him up, and carried on!"

"He'll damage himself," Arthur said, angrily. "You know he will."

"Yeah," Jared sneered, shrugging his shoulders, "but at least he'll still be working - unlike you!"

Arthur turned, and headed for the door. The stab of guilt he felt at leaving Robert was ameliorated by his urge to leave.

_You can't help him, _a voice inside his head insisted. _Just go. _

* * *

"Let me help you with that."

Ariadne blushed as Eames deftly picked up the tray, and carried it through to the kitchen. He returned a few minutes later, and sat down next to the petite brunette. She swallowed, and looked at her hands.

"So," Eames began, conversationally, "how are you find Artie as a hourse guest?"

Ariadne swallowed again. "He's very polite. Keeps himself to himself." She looked at Eames, directly. "I think he's hiding something, and won't tell me."

"Really?" Eames leaned forward. "What do you think he's hiding?" The older man's smile was ingratiating, and she couldn't help but return it.

"Well, it sounds crazy, but Arthur really looks as though he could be a model." She shrugged. "He's so good looking."

Eames raised his eyebrows. "Well, very complimentary of you. But, he's-"

Suddenly, the front door slammed. "Back," the British man finished. Ariadne bit her lip.

* * *

Arthur hurried through into the lounge. "Ariadne? I'm-"

He stopped. Eames was sitting next to her, on the couch, and smiling like an especially predatory wolf who had just spotted its prey. Arthur gritted his teeth, and she turned to him. "Arthur!" She got up, and a look of relief crossed her face. "How was the party?"

"Terrible," he informed her, shortly. "Bad company, bad food, bad everything." He nodded at Eames. "Nice to see you."

"Indeed." Eames nodded, grinning. Arthur blinked. "Well, I'm going to bed." He looked from Ariadne to Eames. "Goodnight."

Ariadne, reddening slightly, nodded. "Goodnight."

Arthur turned and headed up the stairs. He opened the room of the door he was sleeping in, and flung himself on the bed, not caring that he was wrinkling his clothes. Suddenly, there was another knock on the door.

"Its me!" Arthur groaned. The door flew open, and Eames walked in.

"You sly fox," Eames said, his grin threatening to split his face. "Why didn't you tell me about her?" He shook his head. "Really, Arthur!"

Arthur turned his head away. "Not now." His voice was toneless.

"Come on, its only dinner," Eames said, sitting on the bed. "And you're invited to! Bring Summer!"

Arthur groaned. The party, Robert, Eames' arrival, a shoot tomorrow, now this...

"I'd get to bed," the older man said, getting up. "Photo shoot tomorrow! Oh, and Arthur?"

"Yes, Eames?"

"Do tell Ariadne the truth." Eames grinned again as he opened the door. "Or I will!"

He shut the door, and left. Arthur immediately placed the pillow over his head, hoping that when he opened his eyes, the world would have disappeared.

**All reviews appreciated and read, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

"Arthur! Time to get up!"

Arthur groaned and buried his head in the pillow. Eames' voice cut through the door, insistently. "Arthur!"

"OK!" The younger man shouted back. Pulling himself out of the bed, he scowled at his reflection. His hair was mussed, and skin pale. He slouched into the shower, hoping a blast of hot water would stir him back to life.

"Photo shoot," he muttered under his breath, "great." He reached for the shower gel, and began to soap himself.

"It will be ok," he muttered. "It will be ok."

Nodding resolutely, he rinsed his hair.

* * *

"So, um, where is Arthur going?" Ariadne asked, timidly. The older man smiled at her, over the rim of his coffee cup. "Just to a business meeting, thats all."

"OK," she nodded. The she turned to Eames. "You know, I do wonder about Arthur."

"Really?"

"Yes, about-" she stopped. The sound of footsteps indicated he was approaching, and Eames smiled broadly as Arthur entered. "Artie!"

"I'm here!" he said, crossly. He turned to Ariadne. "Hey."

She smiled at him. "Hey."

"Now, Artie, regarding tonight," Eames interrupted. "I suggest we all meet at the restaurant around half seven, OK?"

Arthur nodded. "OK." He looked at the younger woman. "What are your plans for that day?"

She blushed slightly. "I was going to go out sketching."

Arthur swallowed. Sketching. She was talented. Unlike him. "Well, enjoy. I'll see you later."

Eames hurried him towards the door. "Come on!"

* * *

"You seen Robert, lately?" Eames asked idly. They were cruising down the main roads, soaking up the atmospheric beauty in the back of a cab. Arthur nodded. "Yes."

"How is he?"

"Ill," Arthur said, surprising himself with his honesty. "He's really not well, Eames."

"How so?" Eames was idly gazing out the window. "What's up with him?"

"He's bulimic," Arthur said, lying against the cab's upholstery. "He's really damaging himself."

Eames narrowed his eyes. "Arthur, Robert's an attention seeker, you know that. Oh, look, we're here!"

Arthur followed Eames out of the cab, and they entered the studio. Alex, the photographer, was studying a backdrop. Arthur spoked first. "Alex?"

"Art?" The other man turned round. "Good to see you! You look great!" He grabbed Arthur, and pulled him into a hug. The spontaneous gesture surprised the younger man, but Alex's friendliness, after the cavalcade of bitchiness he'd been subjected to, was a welcome relief.

"Um, what do you want me to wear?" Arthur asked, nervously. Alex nodded. "Its over there, in the back."

Dutifully, Arthur wandered over to the backstage dressing room. The female dresser nodded to him. "Hey." He swallowed. "Hi." She narrowed her eyes. "Sure you'll be ale to fit into those?"

Arthur blinked. Hanging up were a pair of black skinny jeans, which looked impossibly tiny. He nodded. "I'm sure," he said, quietly. Reaching for them, he pulled them off the hangers. "OK, I'll get changed," he muttered.

About ten minutes later, he emerged, the jeans hugging his lower body tightly. As he walked out, into the studio, Alex nodded. "Nice."

"Are you kidding?" Eames exclaimed, exasperated. "Look at that roll over the top of his waistband!"

Alex looked at Arthur, and shrugged. "Can't see anything." He began to set up the camera. "OK, Arthur, I want you to lean against the wall, and- smile!"

Arthur did so, duitfully. Alex clicked the camera, and then looked up. "OK, one leg against the wall, now turn and face the other way - thats perfect, Art." He smiled at Eames. "He's gold, Eames, really."

Arthur sighed. The studio was hot, and the jeans felt uncomfortably tight. He grimaced - maybe he had indulged a little too much. He bit his lip. _Stop thinking that way. You'll end up like Fischer._

Eames shook his head. "Well, if you put it that way." He looked at Arthur, critically. "I've just noticed - you're getting a double chin, Arthur. Maybe you should-"

"Shut up!" Arthur exploded, his voice ripping through the atmosphere of the studio. "Just shut up, Eames! All you've done since you've arrived is criticise me!"

"I'm entitled to!" Eames snapped, his colour rising. "When your top charge goes on holiday, spends all his time stuffing his face, and starts turning into a porker, I'm entitled to!"

Arthur blinked. "Turning into a porker?" He looked at the older man in disbelief. "Eames, what is wrong with you? You really think I'm fat?"

"Arthur, the current trend is for lean!" Eames retorted. "You know that! You get paid vast amounts of money to stay in shape! You're paid to look good in clothes, thats all!"

Arthur blinked, the colour draining from his face. Eames had never thrown his lack of purpose so openly in his face before. He swallowed. "Well, if thats what you think of me," he said, shortly. Turning, he began to walk away from the camera.

Alex looked at him. "Art, what are you-"

"Allow me," Eames said, curtly, and hurried after the younger man. Arthur was sitting on one of the stools in the backroom, his head in his hands. "Arthur, I-"

"What?" Arthur snarled, standing up. "You're sorry? No, you're not. You just see me as a cash card! Thats all!" He rubbed his face. "Do you want me to end up like Fischer, throwing up to stay in shape? Or like Jared, who snorts so much coke he'll soon have a third nostril?"

Eames shook his head. "No," he said, quietly. "I don't." He swallowed. "Arthur, look. I've handled this badly. We are friends, as well as colleagues." He sat down on a stool, and reached for his cigarettes.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Just stop - giving me such a hard time." He sat down next to him. "I'm not really sure I want to model any more."

"You don't?"

"No." Arthur shook his head. "I don't."

Eames bit his lip. "Well, I-"

"Save it." Arthur got up, and headed back to the studio. "Oh, and dinner tonight?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not coming." He looked at Eames.

The older man bit his lip. "Summer will be ever so disappointed-"

A smiled began to quirk at the corners of Arthur's mouth. "Really? She can live with it."

Eames stood up. "Fair enough. But, Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Do tell Ariadne the truth. For your sake."

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur sighed as he pulled his t-shirt back over his head. He walked back through the studio, and Alex smiled at him. "Hey, Art."

"Hey." Arthur shrugged, listlessly. "See you soon."

"Indeed." Alex was wrapping up his electrical cords. "By the way, those shots I got? Awesome. _Details_ is going to love them! Men's casual fashion for the season!"

"Yeah," Arthur said, nodding. "Under a headline of ' this is what happens when a male model balloons...never mind the war in the middle east, the fact the economy is in freefall, and that plenty of children are growing up in poverty, Arthur Ogilvie gains three kilos, and its news." He sat on one of the studio's packing cases in disgust. "Why do people have nothing worthwhile to worry over, other than whether I ate a doughnut?" He looked at Alex, his eyebrows raised.

Alex smiled. It was a kind one, with genuine warmth. "Well, Arthur, I guess you're a distraction for people." He finished laying his camera in its case. "You see, if someone like you gains a little weight, it makes all the other regular Joes out there feel better about themselves."

Arthur looked at the floor. "Not my intention. I'm no better than them. Most of them have got College degrees, jobs that have a point, and families. And friends, who actually like them, rather than friends who hang onto you because they think you're glamour might rub off on them."

"You know," Alex said, folding up his tripod, "I'm beginning to think that you're having a premature midlife crisis." He looked at the other man. "Am I right?"

"Well..." Arthur swallowed. "I'm in Paris. I've met this girl. She's lovely. She's sweet, she's funny, she's sexy..." a tint of rose began to warm his face. "And she's clever. Studying to become an Architect." He paused. "She's just...cultured. A whole person."

"And you're not?"

"No." Arthur shook his head. "I'm a College drop-out who has not talent to do anything but smile in front of a camera. She suspects something, but sooner or later she'll recognise me, and -" he bit his lip.

"Look," Alex said, softly, "if she really likes you Art, she'll listen to you. Go home, tell her the truth. Take her out for a meal."

Arthur nodded, his lips lifting in a smile. "I will." He began to get up. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." Alex smiled. "Worst come to worst, you could just hold up the latest issue of this magazine and say 'hey look, its me!'"

Arthur grinned. "Maybe." He turned his head as Eames came clattering through, a cellphone clamped to his ear. "Yes, yes, I know...you insist...OK, see you then, bye!"

He closed the flip phone, and smiled at Arthur. "Well, Artie, are you feeling rested?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow, suspiciously. "Why?"

"You're in London next week. For the Fashion week." He nodded. "And guess what? I've managed to ensure that a guest of your choice gets a front row seat."

Arthur's face burned. "Eames, I-"

The older man nodded. "Thanks Eames. I really appeciate it Eames. I really appreciate how you are trying to sort out my lovelife, as I am too witless to do it myself." He shook his head. "Still, I know you're very grateful, Artie. Anyway, got to get back, have to get changed for tonight!" He winked at the younger man. "Now, you are coming, aren't you?"

Arthur looked at him. "I-"

Suddenly, his cellphone shrilled. Sighing, he opened it. "Hello?"

"Arthur, where are you? Are we meeting at 7? Or at 8?" Summer's irritated voice floated out of the tiny device. "I need to know! Do you understand how long it takes to get ready?"

Arthur exhaled. "Summer its-" he squinted at his watch - "3pm."

"I know! I won't have enough time!"

Arthur looked at Eames, who chuckled and pretended to be examining his phone.

"I'll meet you at 7pm," Arthur said, through gritted teeth. "We'll go to Bacardia's."

"Classy." Arthur could hear an undertone of sarcasm. "I'll see you there." Sighing, he shut his phone. Eames nodded. "Good boy, Artie. Keep her sweet."

"Mmm." Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Come on, better get back."

"Hang in there, Art," Alex said as he left. "It will get better."

The younger man smiled. "Thank you." Turning, he followed Eames out of the building.

* * *

When he got back, he could hear running water. And the sound of somebody singing. Smiling to himself, he walked upstairs. "Ariadne?"

No response. Sighing, he headed into the guest room, and opened the closet. Listlessly, he began flicking through his suits, finally deciding on a soft grey one. He hung it up to get rid of the creases, and headed for the shower.

An hour later, clad in a bathrobe, he padded down to the kitchen. To his surprise, Ariadne was already there. Wearing a soft black dress, that was cut to fall just above her knees, and heels. Her face was made up, and her long dark hair was pinned up in a soft bun.

Arthur blinked. "Wow..." he almost croaked out. "You look...gorgeous."

She looked surprised. "You think so?"

Arthur nodded. "No, trust me, you do."

She smiled, shyly. "Thank you. Eames is taking me out this evening."

Arthur felt his face beginning to freeze. "Oh, I see."

"Yes, he said to meet him for quarter to seven." She looked at her watch. "Its half six now."

"Well, I'd better get ready myself," Arthur said, quickly. "I'm meeting someone at 7." Nodding authoratively, he turned and began to head back to his room. "OK," she called after him. "Enjoy!"

* * *

At five to 7, Arthur entered Bacardia. His suit fitted, although he did notice the waist seemed slightly tighter. He swallowed. He had gained a little weight, but, he thought defiantly, he still looked good. He blinked. The increasingly gaunt visage of Robert Fischer was a reminder why he needed to eat. The matire d' looked at him. "Monsieur?"

"Bonsoir." Arthur swallowed, felling awkward, then switched to fluent French. "I have a table booked, name of Ogilvie."

The Maitre d' frowned. "But you are sitting with Monsieur Eames?"

Arthur felt his heart sink, and suddenly, realised what Eames was up to. "Oh, yes," he said, pretending to know already. "Of course we are!"

The maitre d' smiled. "Good evening, Madmoiselle".

Arthur turned, and came face to face with Summer. She nodded haughtily at the matire d'. "Evening." She didn't even both to try and greet him in French, which caused the man to frown. "Arthur, I cannot believe that you booked this place!" Her voice was loud, and he wined with embarrassment. "I mean, look at the decor!"

Arthur smiled, placatingly. "I'm sorry, but-"

"May I show you to your table," the Maitre d' interrupted, in a tone that indicated he'd understood every word she'd spoken. Arthur nodded, hastily, and adjusted his tie. "Please."

Silently, the other man lead them to their table. As they approached Eames and Ariadne, Summer let out a moue of disgust. "Arthur! We don't have to sit with these people, do we?"

Sighing, Arthur pulled her chair out for her. It was going to be a long night.

**All reviews appreciated and read, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur stood silently as the maitre d' pulled out Summer's chair. She was wearing a light pink outfit, and much to Arthur's astonishment, still had a pair of ridiculously large sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose. For a brief moment, he wondered if she had a tiny dog stuffed into her handbag, a thought that made him shudder. To his relief, she pulled the glasses of, and placed them in her bag.

She sat down. "Arthur, are you just going to stand there?" He blushed slightly, and seated himself. Ariadne, he noticed, was studying the menu, Eames gazing into his water glass.

The waiter spoke. "Can I bring you the wine list?"

"Oh, yes please," Eames said, quickly. "And a bottle of red to start with?" Summer turned to Eames, and frowned. Arthur felt a sting of annoyance.

"How many glasses?" The waiter asked, politely.

"Two, please," Eames said, smiling. Arthur looked up. "Three," he added, trying to avoid Summer's gaze. She tutted under her breath, and reached for the menu balanced on her place mat.

Arthur picked up his water glass. He tried to catch Ariadne's eye, but she was keeping her gaze fixed on the menu. Eames turned to her.

"So, what will you have?" he asked. She lowered the leather bound volume, and looked at him.

"Probably_ t_he tuna with herbs," she said, considering. "I love it." Summer sniffed, and Ariadne looked over at her. "Is there a problem?" she asked, evenly.

Summer shrugged. "Well, its protein, which is good for you...but its served on rice." She shook her head, smirking. "Carbohydrates. They help you gain fat."

Ariadne looked at her, and smiled. "Thanks for the tip." She looked at Eames. "What are you having?"

"Venison," Eames said, decisively. "With dauphinoise." He grinned. "Potatoes in a cream sauce. Bliss."

Arthur looked at Summer. She looked completely disgusted, and picked up her water glass. Eames looked at her.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, smoothly. She shook her head. "No." She took another sip of water, and turned to Ariadne.

"Its so good that you feel you can eat carbs," she said, smoothly. "I mean...no-one's interested in looking at your body, are they?"

A sudden silence electrified the table. Arthur, to his shock, felt his fists clench, but suddenly, he heard another voice.

Ariadne's.

"No," she said, quietly, still holding the menu up like a shield. "They tend to be interested in my personality. So I guess its a good thing I've got one."

Arthur heard a stifled squeak, then realised it was Eames, clearly trying to smother a squeal of laughter. Arthur looked at Summer, his eyebrows raised.

"I think-" he said, deciding to stem the flow of conversation - "I'll have steak." He looked at Ariadne. "With wild rice."

She smiled. "Good choice." She lowered her menu, and their eyes met. He noticed there was genuine warmth in them, and his heart began to lift. Finally, they'd exchanged words. He smiled again, aware of Summer's increasingly glowering countenance. Feeling bolder, he turned to her. "Problem?" he asked, smoothly.

She smirked. "Not for me. But face, it you're already getting porky." She shrugged. "Do you really think eating rice is going to help?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Well, a few more ounces isn't going to show on me, is it?"

Summer blinked, and her facial expression twisted, but then she turned to her water glass. The waiter approached. "Ready to order?" he asked.

Arthur nodded, and he, Eames, and Ariadne placed theirs. Summer, meanwhile, was deliberating, then closed the menu. "I'll have a slice of melon," she told the water. "And a glass of mineral water."

The waiter nodded. "To begin with?"

"No," she said, coldly. "Thats all I need. Unlike some people, who go out to eat to make pigs of themselves." She looked at Arthur, and handed back the menu. "That's all." She waved her hand, imperiously, at the waiter.

Arthur glared at her. "You don't have to be so rude."

"And you don't have to stuff yourself," she retorted, picking up her water glass.

"Eating a balanced diet isn't stuffing yourself," Arthur snapped back, his patience finally breaking. "Anorexia isn 't attractive."

She smirked. "Really?" She turned her head towards Ariadne. "What's your thought on this, Ariadne? I mean, fat girls are just ugly, right?"

Ariadne looked at her, directly. "Skinny girls can be ugly too." Her voice was barely audible. "Designer clothes don't hide everything."

Summer looked at her, her eyes narrowing. "Maybe. But lets face it. Arthur!" She turned to him. "If you had a choice between a size 0 and a size 20, what would you go for?" Her tone was almost jeering. "Remember, people are always looking at you! Would you want to be a seen with a six foot wide lardass?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "I'd go for the size 0, Summer."

Ariadne sank back in her seat, looking slightly shocked. Eames, who had been silent throughout the increasingly heated verbal exchange, looked at Arthur and shook his head. "Sorry," he muttered under his breath.

"I thought you would." Summer's voice was satisfied. She looked over at Ariadne. "I guess the size 4 over there is out of luck!" She pulled at her own waistband. "And this size 2 outfit is getting a little loose!"

Arthur looked at her. "You didn't let me finish."

"Really?" She looked at him.

"No." He made eye contact with her. "You didn't let me finish and say, 'I'd go for the size 0, to take her out a few times. Just to make sure she actually eats.'" He shrugged and turned back to his plate. "Trust me, I'd rather have something to-"

"Hold onto?" Eames interjected, grinning. Arthur nodded. "Yeah!"

"Arthur!" Summer looked offended. "Don't be so crude!"

"And you think being cruel about other people isn't?" Arthur glared at her.

"Not when they're fat and ugly!" Summer's tone was vicious. "Fat, ugly people deserve to be embarrassed!" She looked at Ariadne. "But I know what will happen, Arthur. You'll date this drab little thing, she'll balloon, and then you'll wonder in five years where the real person is buried underneath-"

Suddenly, a stream of red wine flew across the table, hitting Summer directly. She gasped, and got to her feet, a large red stain spreading across her chest. "You- you-"

"Sorry," Ariadne said, her tone apologetic. "I think the glass just slipped out of my hand!"

Summer looked at her, her expression furious. "Do you have any idea how much this outfit cost? Do you? Well, do you?" She stood up. "Arthur, if you -" she glared at him, then snatched up her bag, and flounced out.

Arthur looked at Ariadne, his expression shocked. She bit her lip and looked down at her plate. Eames also stood up. "I, uh, think I'd better make sure she's all right," he said, calmly, and hurried out.

An awkward silence descended. Finally, Arthur broke it.

"Do you want to go for a walk? The Eiffel Tower's very pretty at night."

She nodded, and smiled. "Why not?"

**Thank you for reading, reviews appreciated!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur swallowed as Ariadne got up, and they began to leave the restaurant. She turned and faced him as they walked out.

"Will she-"

"Oh, she'll be fine," Arthur said, hastily. Ariadne swallowed, and spoke. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't stand her rudeness any longer." She blinked as he began to pick up his pace, and she hurried after him. Once they were on the pavement, he turned to her.

"Arthur, I'm sorry about that." She bit her lip. "Its just she was so vile, and I really couldn't handle it. I mean, she's beautiful, but it doesn't give her the right to behave like that. So, if you feel I've gone too far, I-"

"Ari, I haven't been completely honest with you," he interrupted. "I'm- I'm-"

"Yes?" She asked, gently.

He exhaled, slowly. "Shall we walk?"

She nodded, and they began to walk down the pavement, past the restaurants, and towards the Eiffel Tower. Paris, Arthur thought, was gorgeous at night. Bejewelled in her finery, glittering with promise. He turned to look at Ariadne, who was not looking at him.

He felt a pang tear at his heart. He wished he'd been honest with her from the beginning, but he felt so shallow in comparison to her. He coughed, and she looked up.

"What is it?"

"I, uh-" He stopped abruptly, and turned to her. "Ariadne, have you ever wished you'd been honest with someone from the beginning?"

She looked at him. "Meaning?"

"Well, sometimes, its easier to not tell someone the whole truth than it is to be completely honest..." He faltered. "Because you're scared you're going to look shallow, and stupid, and-"

He stopped, suddenly feeling his face flush with embarrassment. She bit her lip, and looked at the pavement.

"I'm not a greetings card writer," he blurted out. "I'm a model."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I'm a model," he said, honestly. "I'm just a person who wears clothes, gets photographed for wearing clothes, and walks down a runway wearing clothes. Thats it." He looked at her. "And Summer is a model. Thats why she can't bear to be near anything that contains a single calorie." He looked at the pavement. "And because I can, thats why she and Eames are always needling me about my weight. Thats why I'm apparently fat." He looked down at himself. "And I'm now going over 30, which means I'm getting too old to do this. So soon, end of career. And then I'll just be another washed up celebrity, famous for nothing important, and nothing worthwhile."

Ariadne looked at him. "I see", she said, softly. "Anything else?"

Arthur felt the blood pulsing in his ears. "I'm a liar," he admitted. "But I-" He faltered. "I-"

She nodded. "OK." She looked at him. "Shall we continue?"

He swallowed. "Please."

They headed further. Eventually, they reached the main plaza, filled with small cafes. People were sitting outside, talking and drinking. Ariadne looked at him. "Shall we?"

Arthur felt he had no other choice. "Yes, why not?"

They seated themselves, and a waiter came out. "Oui?" he asked, smiling. Ariadne picked up the table menu, and smiled. "Two scoops of glace, please," she stated. "And a glass of white wine."

Arthur watched as the waiter scribbled it down, and turned to him. "An espresso, please, and glace."

The man nodded, and headed back into the establishment. Ariadne looked at Arthur.

"So, you're a model." She tilted her head. "And you lied."

He gulped. "Yes, but-" a rush of emotion suddenly began to burst through him. "I lied because I didn't want to admit how useless I am for anything else. All I can do is wear clothes, and look in a mirror. I dropped out of college, I've never had a job I've been qualified for. I'm supposed to starve myself to stay in shape, and its been suggested I could make myself throw up if I get really desperate." He fiddled with the napkin on the table. "I'm just an ornament. I'm this guy that people are supposed to want to emulate, but the truth is, there's nothing there, and-" he stopped, and got up. "And I've lied to you, and I should just go. I'm sorry, Ari, really."

Pushing back his chair, he began to walk away. To his horror, he felt tears beginning to fill his eyes.

_I need to leave, go back to New York, get away from-_

"Arthur!"

He stopped. Turning, he saw Ariadne hurrying after him.

"Where are you going?" she asked, her expression anguished. "You can't just say that, and walk away!"

"I can," he said shortly, "If I feel I've made a fool of myself."

"You've made a fool of yourself?" She looked at him, incredulously. "No, Arthur, you're in danger of making yourself one! Where are you going? Back to modelling? Back to doing something which you clearly don't like?"

"Its all I can do!" He almost shouted. "I'm just a- just a-"

Suddenly, he felt a hand placed on his cheek. Before he could speak again, Ariadne had drawn his face down to hers, and their lips had met. He felt the softness for a second, and then, blinked, looking into her eyes.

"Tell me Arthur," she said, softly, "you're just a what?"

Arthur put his hand on her cheek, and stroked it with her thumb.

"At the moment?" he said honestly, "I'm just incredibly lucky."

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur smiled as he laid back on the pillows of the bed. Ariadne shifted slightly next to him, fully dressed. He'd taken off his suit jacket, and tie, but was still clad in his previously perfectly pressed trousers and shirt. She stretched, and huddled closer to him. He reciprocated by putting out his arm, and pulling her close.

"So," she began, and her voice trailed off. "What do we..." she stopped, her face flushing slightly. Arthur gently ran his fingers over her arm.

"We can just stay here," he reassured her. "No pressure." He smiled, and she reciprocated. She moved closer, and eventually, her head was resting on his chest. He brought his hand up, and began to run his fingers through her hair. They stayed in silence for a few moments, until, she spoke again.

"Why did you become a model?" He blinked, slightly surprised at the abruptness of the question, then smiled.

"Well, I sort of fell into it," he said, honesty marking his voice. "I was a college student, with no clear idea of what I wanted to do after graduation, then..."

His voice faded, suddenly finding himself being sucked into a vortex of memories. He remembered the day clearly. He'd been walking to his French class, his books tucked under his arm, take away cappuccino in his hand, when suddenly, a slightly older woman, stylishly and expensively dressed, approached him.

"Excuse me." He blinked, realising she was addressing him. "Um, yes?" he'd answered, uncertainly.

"I was watching you," she said, her tone smooth. "You have a very unique grace..." her eyes flickered over him. "And exquisite bone structure." She pulled out a business card, and handed it to him. "Come to this address tomorrow, at 3pm." She turned, and began to walk back across the campus. He stared after her, slightly shell shocked.

At his shared apartment that evening, he'd shown the card to his room mates.

"It seems odd," Michael commented, running a hand through his short blonde hair. "No offence, Art, but why would anyone want you as a model?" The young man turned, and began to rummage through the fridge. "I mean, the muscle bound look is in." He looked up, and grinned at Arthur, who felt himself flush.

"All I can do is go," Arthur said, slightly defensively. He studied the card - _Lara Winters, Premium Agency. _

Mike shook his head. "It sounds like a nightmare. Think about it Art. They won't let you eat pizza anymore!" He gestured to the box on the table. Arthur shrugged and took a slice.

"Well," he said, smiling, "we'll see?" Opening his mouth, he took a bite.

* * *

The following day, he used the bus to get to the downtown agency. As he approached, he felt slightly nervous. It was in an expensive, modern looking building, and dressed in the usual undergrad outfit of jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers, he felt under-dressed. As he entered, he blinked. Sitting at the reception desk was one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever seen. Exquisitely made up, and tailored. She smiled as he approached.

"May I help you?"

"I'm here to see Lara Winters," he replied, politely, and she nodded. "Take a seat." Moving swiftly, she picked up the desk phone, and dialled. After a brief conversation, she nodded. "Please go in."

Arthur turned, unable to get the image of how perfectly made up she was. He walked into Lara's office, and immediately spotted her sitting behind a large, glass topped desk. She stood up as he approached.

"Arthur!" She reached out, and took his hand. "Please, sit down." He did so, careful to draw his legs in, and sit upright. She leaned forward, studying him.

"Well, aren't you something?" she said, finally. "And you're perfect for what we want. But, there are a few conditions..."

He blinked, and listened.

"You're going to have to change your diet," she said, finally. "You look a little puffy. When did you last eat wheat?"

Arthur swallowed. "Um, last night," he admitted, and she shook her head. "Its going to have to go, I'm afraid." She stood up. "Trust me, the camera doesn't lie. Any little bit of bloat will be picked up. But, its no problem. I'm going to sign you over to Eames, whose one of the best agents in the business. Trust me, he'll take care of you."

"And that was it," he murmured, looking down at Ariadne. "Ten years ago, and I've been doing this ever since."

She looked at him. "Have they always been critical of what you look like?"

He nodded. "Yes." He sighed. "Eames was a model once himself, and told me the best thing about not doing it...he could actually eat." He looked at her. "Must be nice. Plus, meeting women who don't have a nervous breakdown if they run out of pore cleanser." He looked at her. "Plus, I have a friend in the business who has an eating disorder." He shivered. "I don't want that to happen to me." He bit his lip. "If it means giving this up, I will do so. Do something more constructive with my life."

She looked at him. "So...you haven't had many serious relationships?"

He blushed. "I'm not..." his voice trailed off. "No, not for a while. Always travelling. Never time to make connections."

She reached up, and began to stroke his cheek. "Well, you have the chance now."

He nodded. "I do, and I'm going to take it."

She swallowed. "What about Eames?"

Arthur shrugged. "I'll worry about Eames, and everything else, tomorrow. Right now, I want to focus on you." Leaning over, he began to kiss her on the lips.

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur sighed and turned over, his hand gently falling against Ariadne. He blinked, and smiled. Both were still fully clad, and she was fast asleep. He leaned over, and kissed her on the cheek.

Standing up, he smiled at himself. His hair was mussed, but he actually looked happy. He smiled again - a proper smile, not the forced rictus grin he'd increasingly adopted. He began to walk downstairs, not caring he was still in clothes from the previous night, or that he needed a shower. He felt happy.

Walking downstairs, he stopped. Eames was sitting in the kitchen. He looked at him, and Arthur swallowed.

"You didn't-" Eames blinked, and tried to focus. "You didn't sleep in your clothes last night, did you?"

Arthur shrugged. "I did." He smiled at Eames again. "I did, and it feels..."

"Uncomfortable?"

"Liberating," the younger man replied. He walked past Eames, and began to busy himself with the coffee pot. "Its called liberating."

Eames raised an eyebrow. "Summer's not very -" he coughed - "happy."

Arthur shrugged. "She can deal with it." He poured coffee beans into the grinder. "I'll call her in a few days."

"Well, you're at work today. So it'll have to wait."

"What?" Arthur blinked.

"You're at work today," Eames repeated, patiently. "Did you forget? You're doing a photoshoot with Jared."

Arthur's heart sank. "Oh, God..."

"And no, you're not getting out of it." Eames pulled his iPhone out and pretended to study it intently. "You are doing this. Now, go and shower, get changed - and I'll see you there!"

Arthur turned and trudged back up the stairs. As he did so, Ariadne began to come out onto the landing. She blushed when she saw him. "Hey."

"Hey," he said, gently, reaching out and touching her face. "You ok?"

She nodded. "I'm good." She smiled at him. "Are you-"

"Have to go to work," he said, grimacing slightly. "Photo shoot. But when I get back-" he grabbed her hand, and pulled it towards him - "we'll talk, ok?"

She smiled at him, and let him caress her fingers. "Sounds wonderful." Leaning over, their lips met, and Arthur headed for the shower.

* * *

Arthur walked into the photo studio, feeling apprehensive. Jared was in the middle of the room, barking orders to a flunky who was wrestling with an expensive looking tripod. Arthur swallowed, then flinched as the older man turned and spotted him.

"Arthur!" He smiled, which quickly transmuted into a smirk. "You look so...healthy!" He folded his arms and studied the younger man. "Too much time in Paris, huh? Looks like you might burst out of the suits I want you to wear!"

Arthur met Jared's eyes. "Its called eating, Jared. Its something you do to, oh I don't know, stay alive?"

Jared smirked. "Looks more like something you're doing to get fat." He turned and looked at his flunky. "Hey, got any wide angled lenses? We might need them for Arthur!"

Arthur glared at him. "How do you address your female models, Jared?"

The photographer grinned wolfishly. "Depends on what they look like. One of the asked me last week if the dress was making her thighs look fat. I told her no, the dress isn't make them look fat. They just are fat - and then I told her about a wonderful little operation. Its called liposuction."

Arthur sucked in his breath. "You're sick."

Jared shrugged. "You haven't heard the rest. She was only starting out - so I told her if she couldn't afford surgery, maybe she should try anorexia."

Arthur swallowed, and tried to keep his self-control. "Well, when her parents are visiting her in hospital, hope she tells them what you-"

"That I told her that she was too fat and flabby to do this job?" Jared grinned. "I was only being honest, Arthur. Jesus, I am so sick of these dumpy chicks coming in here, thinking they look good. Whats it coming to when models are fat?" He looked at Arthur, pointedly. "Still, I can make you wear black, and then, you might be in with a chance." He looked up. "Hey, here's the other guy! Robert!"

Arthur turned, and his heart sank. Robert Fischer was approaching them, looking thinner and more gaunt than ever. His face looked drawn, and his skin, Arthur noticed with shock, had a faint greyish tinge. He nodded at Arthur. "Hi."

"Hey," Robert replied. He looked at Arthur. "You look well."

"Thanks," Arthur replied, suddenly feeling huge in comparison to Robert's gaunt frame. He shook his head. _I am not going down that path, _he told himself.

Jared was fixing up. "OK, gentlemen, if you want to get changed - Arthur, yours are on the outsize end, ok?"

Arthur held his tongue as he followed Robert into the changing area. The suit fitted perfectly - but as he walked outside, he noticed Robert's was sagging on him. He swallowed.

"Robert," he said, casually, "don't you think you're looking a little...thin?"

Robert looked at him. "Arthur, this is as thin as I'm getting," he said, his voice threaded with desperation. "I can't seem to lose any more-"

Arthur bit his lip. "Rob, if you lose more, you'll-" he broke off. Jared was yelling at one of his hapless assistants, and the two men walked outside to the studio.

* * *

Arthur blinked. The temperature in the studio was soaring, and the Armani suit he was wearing was weighing him down. Jared glared at him.

"For God's sake, turn to the right!" He shook his head. "I need to get you from your least porky side!"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. An hour of Jared's insults were more than he could take. He began to walk off.

"Arthur!" Jared shouted. "Where are you-"

He shrugged. "I've had enough." He looked at Robert. "You coming, Rob?"

Robert shook his head. "I-"

"No, you stay there," Jared ordered. His eyes flashed. "I need at least one guy in this whose thin!"

Robert nodded. "Yes, of course you-"

Arthur blinked. Robert had teetered, then fallen to the floor. Stunned, he hurried over to the other man. Grabbing his wrist, he noticed that his pulse was erratic, and without thinking, pulled out his cell phone, and dialled.

"Yes, ambulance please," he spoke briskly. He gave the address, ignoring a hovering Jared whose expression was the most unpleasant he'd ever seen. He ignored him, and focused on loosening the other man's clothes.

* * *

Arthur swallowed as he sat next to Robert's bed side. The older man was pale, and sleeping. He looked up as a young female doctor entered, clutching a chart. She blushed as she spotted Arthur.

"Is he going to be ok?" Arthur asked, suddenly conscious that he was still in the suit. She swallowed.

"Well, he's malnourished." She looked at the chat she was holding. "And he's underweight. By at least 25lbs."

Arthur nodded. "I thought so."

"You a friend?"

"Yes," Arthur answered honestly. He looked at her. "What are you going to do?"

"Keep him in for a few days. Make sure he eats something." She swallowed. "Is there anything-"

Arthur hesitated. If he told her Robert's secret, he'd never forgive him. "Well, he's-"

"Arthur?" He blinked. Robert was waking up. "Arthur, where-"

"You're in hospital," Arthur said, gently. "Listen, Rob, they're going to take care of you." He got up. "I'll come and see you in a couple of days, ok?"

"Take care of-" Robert's expression became agonised, and he looked from Arthur to the doctor. "No, I can't stay here, and-"

"It'll be ok," she said, soothingly. "Mr Fisher, you just need to eat-"

"NO!" Robert roared, causing her to take a step back. "I'm not staying in here! I'm not! You don't understand, I can't get fat, I-"

Arthur began to back away. Haunted by the pain and rage on Robert's face, he turned, and hurried out of the room, tears threatening to blur his vision.

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me, apologies for the hiatus, and thank you for reviewing the last chapter!**

Arthur swallowed as he settled himself at the breakfast bar in the Cobb's elegant kitchen, feeling shaken. He stared into the glass of water before him. The pain and rage on Robert's face had been too much for him to bear. He picked up the glass, realising after he took a sip, that he was hungry. He grimaced - unsurprising, he hadn't eaten since the previous night.

Suddenly, he felt a surge of defiance, as well as hunger. Getting up, he moved to the refrigerator, and proceeded to search. After finding cheese, ham, and salad, he opened the bread bin. Finding a baguette, he sliced it in half, and proceeded to fill it.

Arthur smiled as he sat down at the table, his lunch sitting on a plate. _Perfect_, he thought, happily. Picking it up, he lifted it to his mouth.

"Arthur!"

He blinked, and turned. Ariadne was standing in the doorway, looking slightly shocked. He looked at her. "Hi there."

"You're going to eat all of that?"

He blushed furiously, feeling her gaze was questioning. "I am."

"But..." She bit her lip, and pulled herself onto one of the stools. "I thought models couldn't eat? And didn't you have a photoshoot this morning?"

Arthur nodded, and licked French dressing off his lower lip. "I did. And a friend of mine-" he swallowed, remembering the mutually polite antipathy that had often simmered between himself and Robert - "collapsed." He shuddered slightly, and took another bite of baguette.

"Collapsed?" Ariadne asked, her face showing concern. "How? Why?"

"He's-" Arthur was about to divulge Robert's secret, when Eames came striding in. His expression was cloudy, and Arthur had an inkling of what he was about to say.

"Arthur. You're back."

The younger man nodded blandly. "I am," he confirmed. Eames glowered slightly.

"I had a phone call. From Jared. Apparently he's rather upset."

"Really?" Arthur looked at Eames. "Why?"

"That you walked off, and-" Eames looked at Arthur, astounded. "What is that you're eating?"

Arthur put the baguette down. "Lunch," he replied, patiently. "Food, Eames. Its now-" he checked his watch - "2pm, and this is the first thing I've eaten all day. I think I'm entitled to something."

"But, Arthur, you'll-"

"Look, I saw Robert Fischer collapse this morning, went with him to hospital, and saw him told he was suffering from malnutrition." Arthur took another bite. "Is that what you want?"

Eames looked at him. "Arthur, I had-"

"No," Arthur said shortly. "You don't." He chewed, and swallowed. "I'm going to visit him this afternoon. After I've finished this." He looked at his plate. "Its not worth it, Eames. It just isn't."

The older man raised an eyebrow. "Well, if you're prepared to turn your back on your career, thats your decision, but-"

"There's more to life than this!" Arthur exploded. "There has to be!" Leaving te baguette half finished on the plate, he got up, and stalked out of the room.

* * *

Ariadne bit her lip as she walked after him. As she saw him disappear into the garden, she took a deep breath, and followed. After a few moments, she found him sitting on a lawn chair. She swallowed, and approached.

He looked up, and smiled. "Hi there."

She sat down next to him, and without thinking, took his hand. "Arthur, are you-" she broke off, unsure of how to phrase the next question.

"Am I ok? No." He rubbed his forehead, and looked out over the lawn. "I was at the photoshoot today, and watched someone collapse in front of me." He turned to her, and caressed he hand with his fingers. "He's ill. Really ill." To his horror, Arthur felt a tear running down his cheek.

"What happened?" she whispered.

"He's bulimic," Arthur replied. "Bulimic, and desperate. He thinks he's too old, too fat, too ugly to keep on doing this." He felt her fingers tighten around his. "This is what modelling does to you." He sat up, and looked at her. "I have to see him, Ari. Tell him to get out of this, before he-"

She nodded, and they sat silently for a few minutes. Then, she turned back to him. "I'll go with you." Her voice was firm, and looking at her, Arthur realised she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

* * *

Arthur hurried down the corridor to Robert's private room, aware that the older man would be displeased to see him. _A risk I have to take, _he told himself. Gently, he knocked on the door, and pushed it open.

Robert was awake, lying in bed. Arthur immediately noticed the IV pole he was attached to. A clear liquid was trickling down a thin plastic tube, snaking its way into his system. He cleared his throat. "Robert?"

Robert turned his head, and looked at Arthur. "Oh. Its you." His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "Come to gloat, have you?"

Arthur blinked, unsure of how to take this hostility. "Not sure what you mean," he said, trying to sound light hearted. "You're sick, I'm here to visit-"

"And to gloat over the fact that once they're done with me, no agent will touch me." Robert turned away, ignoring Arthur. "I'll be huge when they let me out of here." He turned back, and glared at the younger man. "Which is what you wanted. Now, get out!"

Arthur swallowed. "Robert, I want to help you. You can do more than this, you don't have to spend the rest of your life-"

"Oh, shut up!" Robert exploded. "Why don't you take your sanctimonious, over grown boy scout attitude and just disappear? I don't need you feeling sorry for me! There are ways - pills, drugs you can take. Now, get out!"

Arthur opened his mouth, and shut it again. Sighing, he left, and met Ariadne in the waiting room.

"Is he-" she began to ask, and stopped when she saw Arthur's face.

"He's not good," Arthur said, unhappily. "He's not. He needs therapy, someone to talk to." Ariadne wrapped her arm through his. _And someone to love, _he added, silently.

The two of them began to make their way through the hospital foyer, and into the open air. Suddenly, a flash of light caused Arthur to freeze.

A group of paparazzi were huddled outside, trying to take pictures of them both. Gritting his teeth, Arthur grabbed hold of Ariadne's arm, and began to hurry her across the car park.

**I love reviews, if you could leave one it would be great, thank you!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

"Come on!" Tugging at Ariadne's sleeve, Arthur pulled her down the steps. Biting her lip, she followed him. The photographers were becoming increasingly insistent, trying to shove their cameras directly into their faces. She found herself huddling more closely towards him. He wrapped his arm around her, and they reached the bottom of the steps.

"My car's over there," she whispered, and he nodded. As they reached the small hatchback, he realised that two of the photographers were already trying to approach them. He swallowed, feeling a surge of unease. He heard a clicking sound, and realised that she had unlocked the driver's door, got in, and then unlocked the passenger side. He hurried to the other side, and got in. She turned the key in the ignition, and they peeled out of the parking lot, leaving the shouting, baying photographers behind.

For a few minutes, neither spoke. Then Arthur turned to look at her. With a sense of shock, he realised that her face was pale, and her hands were trembling slightly on the wheel. He took a deep breath. "Ari-"

"What?" her tone was soft, and he swallowed.

"I just didn't expect..." she bit her lip, and turned to him. "I just didn't think I'd ever get that kind of attention." She smiled, and he felt himself beginning to relax. "If I'd known, Id have put some make-up on."

Arthur blinked. Her skin was a natural ivory, and with her long dark hair, the effect was gorgeous. "You don't need it," he said, sincerely. "Trust me."

She blushed. "Thanks." She steered them down the road, leading back to the house. "How is he?"

Arthur shook his head. "Bad." He swallowed. "I'll talk about it when we get back," he promised. "But, Christ..."

"What is it?"

"I need to get out of modelling. For good."

* * *

Robert turned his head to the wall, feeling tears trickling down his face. A young male nurse came in, and adjusted the IV. "Mr Fischer?"

"What?" Robert practically spat out.

"The therapist will be down soon." His deft fingers adjusted the drip measurement. "She's eager to talk to you."

"I'll bet."

"Listen, Mr Fischer-" the nurse paused. "If you want anything at all - fruit, ice cream - all you have to do is ask for it." He looked at the truculent figure. "Plus, the other doctor will be down soon - he needs to get you weighed, check your blood pressure."

"I want some privacy." Robert snapped out the words. "Got that? Get out!"

The nurse blanched. "Just trying to help," he said, his tone slightly cooler. "My little sister has a picture of you on her wall. But don't worry, I won't tell her about how you behave."

He turned, and left the room. Robert's tears flew freely, and he buried his face in the pillow.

* * *

"Do you want some coffee?"

Arthur nodded. "That would be great, thanks." She nodded, and began to fill the espresso maker.

"You know what really gets me?" Arthur suddenly burst out. "Its the people who have let him destroy himself. His agent, his business manager - who cares if he drops dead, as long as their cash cow keeps producing?"

She blinked, startled by the vehemence in his voice. "Arthur, its-" She swallowed. "He needs some help."

Arthur nodded. "He does. He needs someone who loves him, more than anything." He bit his lip, and re-seated himself. "But, he's not the easiest person to get on with." He smiled as Ariadne handed him a cup of espresso. "Thank you."

She seated herself opposite him, and stirred her own cup. "Arthur," she asked, quietly.

"Yes?" he took a sip and looked at her. "What is it?"

"Have you-" she paused. "Have you ever done it yourself?"

Arthur paled. "You mean..." he paused, and she nodded. Swallowing, he tried to regain his composure. "I nearly did," he said quietly.

She reached over and took his hand. "You-"

"I said nearly," he reminded her. "Nearly, Ariadne." He shuddered. "But, Eames found me." He stared into the contents of his coffee cup. "He's a good guy, really."

She nodded. "I know." She took another sip. "But what about Robert?"

Arthur fiddled with the handle of cup. "I'll try and see him again tomorrow." He looked at her, determinedly. "I'm not giving up on him."

* * *

"Mr Fischer?"

Robert blinked, and opened his eyes. He'd fallen asleep, due to pure exhaustion. The young nurse was looking at him, anxiously. "Mr Fischer, there are two gentlemen here to see you."

Robert began to prop himself up. "Oh, OK," he said, aware of how tired he sounded. His eyes widened as Jared stode into the room, along with an older, overweight man he'd never seen before.

"Hey, Rob." Jared sat down, and smiled. "Thought I should come and visit. After you passed out in the studio. Still, I understand you have to make sacrifices for that body." He nodded, and Robert swallowed. "This is Peter Browning, business manager for the Giovanni Fashion House."

Robert blinked again. "Hello, Robert," Browning said, smiling. "How long are you in here for?"

Robert swallowed "A few days."

"No, you're not," the older man said, smoothly. "I'll arrange for a discharge. You see, Giovanni need a face for their Spring line. They originally tipped Arthur Ogilvie, but as he seems-"

"-To be getting fatter every time I see him," Jared chipped in, "I recommended you."

"You're the type they need," Browning said. "They need a thin look for this line, and Arthur doesn't cut it. You do."

Robert swallowed. "But they say I have malnutrition-"

"They're lying," Browning said, his tone slightly cold. "You see, they don't understand our business. You're the perfect weight for what we want."

"They'll fatten you up if you stay here," Jared added. "I can't make you look good in the photos if that happens."

"Think about it," Browning said, getting up. "Do you want to continue in this career, or end up like Arthur- a fat has-been?"

Robert blinked. Thoughts were crashing together in his head. "I'll do it." His tone was decisive.

Browning smiled, and so did Jared. "Excellent. Let's get the paperwork."

**All reviews appreciated. Thank you!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Thank you for all the lovely reviews!**

"A career change?"

Eames, perched on a stool at the breakfast bar, sounded almost incredulous. Arthur nodded. "Yes, Eames. A career change."

"Doing what?"

Arthur swallowed, and carefully stirred his coffee, trying to stall for more time. Eames, his head resting on his propped up hand, raised an eyebrow.

"What are you going to do?" he repeated.

Arthur took a sip of coffee. "I could - I will - go back to college."

"And study what?"

Arthur swallowed. "Music." He looked at Eames. "I will study music." He looked at the table. "Study it properly. Maybe teach it."

Eames was shaking his head. "Arthur, Arthur, Arthur."

"Eames, Eames, Eames." Arthur mimicked. He folded his arms, and studied his manager's face. "Please. I have to do this. I'm not going to end up like-"

"Like?" Eames pressed.

"Like Robert." Arthur blinked; to his shock, he felt tears prickling behind his eyelids. "I'll end up like Robert."

"You've seen him?" Eames blinked. "According to the press, he's suffering from nervous exhaustion." He tossed a tabloid newspaper across the table at Arthur, who, blinking, smoothed it out and opened it. Scanning his eye down the list of contents, he turned to page 10, and gasped when he saw the headline.

"TOP MALE MODEL EXHAUSTED."

"Exhausted?" Arthur muttered, furiously. "He's malnourished!" Biting back his anger, he continued to read.

_"Top male model Robert Fischer is currently recovering in a Paris Hospital, due to his collapse at a photoshoot. Mr Fischer, who has been one of the most photographed men in the world, is suffering from "nervous exhaustion." However, this has not deterred top designer Giovanni, who has persuaded Fischer to sign up to model his new Autumn collection. "I need someone slender, athletic, beautiful," explained the world-renowned designer from his home in Rome. When asked why he has passed over Arthur Ogilvie, regarded as Fischer's biggest rival for the last few years, Giovanni merely laughed. "Ogilvie? The man is turning into a whale! I cannot have a blimp wearing my clothes!"_

_That last comment was made in reference to recent sightings of Arthur Ogilvie in Paris. As can be seen from this picture, he looks as though he may have been over doing the croissants. _

Arthur blinked as he looked at the snatched picture of him leaving the hospital with Ariadne, and crumpled the paper furiously in his hand. Eames raised an eyebrow. "Noticed the comment about your extra poundage?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "I'll ignore that." He sat down again, biting his lip. "Giovanni wants him to model for him? Bad news." He shuddered. "He'll make him even sicker."

Eames shook his head. "Arthur. You and Fischer...hate each other. Don't you remember? There was a time where he wouldn't even speak to you backstage!"

"Doesn't matter," Arthur said, looking directly at the older man. "He's in trouble, Eames, he's not well." He hurried to collect his jacket. "I have to go back and see him."

"Arthur!" Ariadne stood up. "Arthur, do you want me to-"

"No, its fine," Arthur said, slipping the black leather jacket on. Leaning over, he kissed her on the cheek. "I'll go by myself."

"You're sure?"

"Positive," Arthur said, nodding. He caught her chin in his hand, tilted it up, and kissed her. "Listen, meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me," he said, sincerely. "I need to convince him it can happen for him, too."

* * *

The receptionist smiled at Arthur. "Oh, of course, he's still in his room." She swallowed, as though trying not to catch Arthur's eyes. He sighed inwardly. _I'm just a normal person! _he felt like shouting, but instead, smiled politely. "Thank you." Turning, he began to walk towards Robert's room. As he reached the door, he gently tapped on it. "Robert?"

No response. He pushed the door open, and found him, sitting on the bed. To his astonishment, Robert was fully dressed. "Are you..." Arthur paused, "going somewhere?"

Robert glared at him. "What's it to you?"

"It bothers me that you're ill and in need of care," Arthur said, calmly, although his heart was beginning to race. He met Robert's eyes, and shivered.

"Why should it?" Robert said, perfectly calmly. "You've always hated me, Arthur." He shrugged, and began to get off the bed. "But it doesn't matter." He smiled at him. "I'm the new face of Giovanni's spring line. So, whilst you're slowly fading from view, I'm going straight back out there."

Arthur walked straight to him, and grabbed his shoulders. "You're not fit to go out there," he snapped. "You collapsed! You have an eating disorder, Robert!"

Robert pushed him away. "Says who?" he said, angrily. "You know what, Arthur? You haven't been hanging around with our type of people enough."

"Our type of people are making you sick," Arthur almost snarled. "I'm not doing this anymore. I'm going to do what I want - something worthwhile, something more positive." He looked at Robert. "If you care about yourself, Robert, you'll do the same."

Robert shrugged. "Forget it, Arthur." He turned and grabbed his bag. "This is what I do."

"Being a normal person - there's nothing wrong with it, Robert. It's better than this type of life." He walked up to him, looking him straight in the eyes. "Meeting someone whose actually real, who actually likes you...you can have that, as well. Wake up, the dream is over."

Robert shook his head. "Not for me." Turning, he tried to walk out of the room, only to begin to collapse again in a faint. Arthur, shocked, pressed the emergency button by the side of the bed.

**Thank you for reading - please leave a review, it is appreciated!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Thank you for reading and reviewing the previous chapter!**

Arthur knelt down next to the frail man, and took his hand, shocked at how he could feel the bones through the skin. "It'll be ok," he whispered. He swallowed, his anxiety increasing as he heard footsteps. Suddenly, a female doctor entered, followed by two nurses. She clicked her tongue in exasperation.

"Please don't tell me he was trying to leave," she said, kneeling down next to Arthur. He noticed her name tag read "Dr Bryce." Arthur nodded. "He was."

"I don't normally go for strapping patients to their bed, unless they're an extreme danger to themselves, but in Mr Fischer's case, I'm prepared to make an exception." She looked at the two male nurses. "Please get him back into bed, one of you stay in the room with him. I need to get a 5mg dosage of valium...hopefully it'll calm him down." She looked at Arthur, and smiled wryly. "Just so you know, I don't believing in dosing patients either..."

"Unless they're a danger to themselves," Arthur finished. "Doctor...is he?"

She looked at him. "What's your relationship with the patient?"

Arthur swallowed. "I'm a good friend," he said, honestly.

She nodded. "I recognise you. Its Arthur Ogilvie, isn't it?"

Arthur sighed. "Yes. Famous for nothing more than wearing clothes and...well, that's it."

Bryce's face broke into a grin. "You have healthy self-awareness, Mr Ogilvie. Very commendable." She looked at Robert, who was being gently placed back onto the bed. "I wish he did."

"How is he?" Arthur asked, biting his lip.

"Well, on a physical level, he's a mess." She shook her head. "His blood pressure is too low, his mineral levels are out of balance, and for all his protests we're trying to fatten him up, he'd have to gain about 30lbs to get to his ideal weight." She looked at Robert's bone white countenance. "Not to mention that he's also possibly the most obnoxious, rudest, most unpleasant patient we've had to deal with for a while." She smiled tiredly. "If you can talk some sense into him, please do."

Arthur nodded. "I'll try." He looked at him. Suddenly, he heard a buzzing noise. He realised it was Robert's cell phone, which he'd been clutching in his other hand. Arthur opened it. "Hello?"

"Robert, where are you?" Jared's voice floated out of the tiny device. "You're supposed to be at the studio, ready for the shoot!"

"He's in bed," Arthur said, calmly.

"Arthur?" Jared's voice sounded confused. "Arthur, why have you got Robert's phone?"

"Because I'm here at the hospital, and he's here, and he's sick, and he's not leaving." Arthur surprised himself with how firm and authorative his voice sounded. Jared clicked his tongue.

"Well, that's a real shame. Because he was about to do a very important assignment. And, no, you can't have it, unless you can drop 15lbs overnight."

Arthur smiled. "If its a choice between being the way I am, and working with you again, I'll stay the way I am, thanks."

"You've dug your own grave." Jared's voice dropped slightly. "I'll let you explain this to Peter Browning."

Arthur shrugged. "Fine." He heard a click, and realised Jared had hung up. He turned to Bryce. "I guess he won't be leaving anytime soon."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Oh, and Mr Ogilvie?"

"Yes?"

"You could do with eating a few more carbs yourself." She smiled. "Unless of course, the mere mention of the word makes you want to have a nervous breakdown."

Arthur smiled. "No. Trust me."

"Good." She looked at him. "And try eating a little more sugar. It can be wonderful, in moderation."

Arthur whistled. "Am I being medically advised to eat pasta, ice cream, and cake?"

She nodded. "Yes."

He grinned. "Best diagnosis ever. Thank you!"

* * *

Arthur sighed as he began to walk back to the car he'd borrowed from Ariadne, keys in his hand. Suddenly he looked up as he heard the screech of tires. Shrugging, he proceeded to walk to the little hatchback, and prepared to open it. Suddenly, he heard a shout, and looked up. An older man was running across the parking lot, puffing slightly. Arthur's eyes narrowed - he recognised the overweight figure. Peter Browning.

"Arthur!" the older man shouted, angrily. "Wait!"

"What do you think you're playing at?" Browning practically snarled. "Robert should be on a photoshoot!"

"Robert's too sick to walk across the room without collapsing," Arthur replied, shortly, opening the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date to go to."

"And you're too fat to walk down a runway without going through it!" Browning practically screamed. Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" He looked at the older man's ample paunch. "Who are you calling fat?"

"You should be careful what you say," the older man said, his tone slightly menacing. "I have contacts, I -"

"Doesn't matter to me," Arthur interrupted. "I've given up modelling." He glared at Browning. "And if Robert has any sense, once he's started to listen to the opinions of people who are properly qualified to comment on his health, so will he." Leaving the older man open mouthed, he turned the key in the ignition, and began to drive away.

* * *

"My God!" Ariadne gasped, turning to Arthur. "So he just collapsed again?"

"Yes." Arthur sunk down onto a seat. "He did. Then Jared tried to call him, and Browing encountered me in the parking lot..." he shuddered. "God. I need to get away from this profession."

She nodded. "Yes."

"On the other hand though," he said, swinging round and catching her by the waist, drawing her closer to him, "I did get told by a doctor I should eat more carbs."

She leaned down and kissed him. "Glad to hear it." She put her arms round him. "I can make spaghetti!"

"Let me help," he offered. He bit his lip. "I've never really liked Robert-"

"I'm not surprised," she interrupted. "He's not very likeable."

"But, he could do with someone to love." Arthur looked at her. "Its a crazy idea, though."

"What is it?" she pressed.

"Do you have any nice friends? Any nice, single friends who can cook?"

She nodded, smiling. "I think I do. Shall we give her a call?"

* * *

"Mr Fischer?" He turned and looked at the nurse. "Yes?"

"Your girlfriend is here."

Robert blinked, shocked. "I don't have a-" Suddenly, Summer entered. "Oh, Robert!" She crooned, throwing her arms around his neck. "I've been so worried!"

He choked slightly. "Summer. How good to see you."

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	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules - she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

"A nice single friend - for Robert?"

Arthur looked up, and sighed irritably. "Yes, Eames." He focused on chopping salad vegetables. "Robert needs someone to make him feel loved, and maybe he'll start to realise that the way he lives is not that healthy."

"Forget it." Eames shrugged. "This is Robert Fischer, remember? Robert Fischer, who is not only a model, but also the heir to a major family fortune."

"Robert Fischer, who does not get on with his father." Arthur shook his head. "Don't you remember? There was a headline in the tabloid press about how they nearly had a screaming match in a restaurant in Sydney."

Eames nodded. "Oh yes, I remember. Still, there's Peter Browning-"

"Browning," Arthur muttered. "Yeah, I know about him. I heard him yelling at Robert once, about how he'd eaten an apple. No wonder the poor guy has issues!"

"Arthur, I don't believe this," Eames said, shaking his head. "You and Fischer - you've never really got on, have you?"

Arthur carefully placed the cut lettuce and peppers in a bowl. "No, the press wanted us to hate each other," he said, calmly. "I've never hated Robert, I've always felt sorry for him." He bit his lip. "But now-" he turned, and saw Ariadne straightening up the lounge, through the open kitchen door - "I think I've realised whats really important." He lowered his voice, and his eyes.

Eames smiled. "Oh, ignore me."

Arthur grinned. "Trust me Eames, later we will."

* * *

"I brought you something." Summer sat on the bed, and smiled at Robert, seductively. He shivered. "What is it?"

"Here," she purred, bringing out a small plastic bag. His eyes widened as he saw the powder sparkling inside. "Summer, is that-"

"Well, you don't want to end up a blimp whilst in here, do you?" She asked, her eyes narrowing. "I mean, hospital food, Robert- all they'll feed you is carbohydrates."

He looked at her. "Well-" his voice faltered slightly. "Can I have it?"

"Of course." Smiling, she dropped it in his lap. "You know, you're so much better looking than Arthur," she said, her voice low, and throaty. "He's really piling it on- but you- those cheekbones - I could cut ice on them!" She began to sit up. "The way you look is the most important thing," she said, smiling.

Suddenly, footsteps were heard. Robert looked up as Dr Bryce entered the room. "Oh, Mr Fischer," she said, smiling. "Visiting hours are nearly over."

Summer smiled, prettily. "Of course, doctor. I'll be back tomorrow." She got off the bed, and leaning over, kissed Robert on the forehead. "Here's my number," she whispered, dropping a piece of paper on the bed as she left. "In case you get bored."

Robert swallowed. "Thank you."

Bryce watched as Summer sashayed past her, then turned to Robert, checking his IV. "I'm leaving tomorrow," Robert said, his tone haughty.

Bryce turned, and raised her eyebrows. "No," she said, simply. "You're not."

"Listen," Robert said, his voice cold. "You don't realise this, but I'm not one of your normal patients. I'm Robert Fischer, does that mean anything to you?"

Bryce left his IV pole, and stood up. "Yes," she said, simply. "It does." Robert smiled, smugly. "It means you're currently in hospital for bulimia and possible substance abuse. Your mental health is questionable and your physical condition is alarming." She stood up, and shook her head. "Until I'm satisfied that you can walk from the bed to the bathroom without collapsing, you're staying right here." She switched off the main light. "Meds at 10pm. Until then, get some sleep. Good night!"

Choking with fury, Fischer watched as she turned and left. Glowering, he glared into the darkness.

* * *

"You ok?"

Arthur smiled and nodded at Ariadne. Eames had left to go back to his hotel, and the two were lying together on the couch, idly watching a Woody Allen movie. Arthur had insisted that Ariadne lay her legs over his knees, and he was massaging her foot. "I'm fine," he said, smiling. "Just wondering - are we - am I- doing the right thing?"

Ariadne swallowed. "Well, you don't want him to die, do you?"

"No," Arthur said, quietly. "And I don't want him to end up old and alone, trading on his glory days."

Ariadne smiled. "Well, then you're doing the right thing. He can't carry on living in a dream world, Arthur. None of us can."

Arthur tickled her foot. "Yes. Which is why-" he paused. "I'm going back to college." He looked at her. "I need to do something useful with my brain."

"And then what?" Ariadne asked gently.

"I don't know yet." He smiled at her. "But its going to be fun, finding out." He leaned over and kissed her. "Shall I escort you to your room?"

She nodded, smiling. "You're such a gentleman. Thank you!"

* * *

"So, what's this guy like?" Jules looked at Ariadne and Arthur, almost impatiently. Her thick red hair snaked down her back, and her green eyes were alert, and bright. "He's a model, right?"

Arthur nodded. "You heard of Robert Fischer?"

"Yes." Jules took a sip of coffee. "Model and heir to a fortune?"

Arthur smiled. "The very same."

"Yes," Jules commented. "I've heard he lives on coffee and cigarettes." She raised her eyebrows. "And I'm a chef. Please, tell me this isn't a bad joke."

"No joke." Arthur leaned back. "He's 30lbs underweight, will probably kick off the minute anyone tries to make him eat anything with carbohydrate in it, and has-"

"Arthur!"

He smiled, tightly. "Summer. How nice to see you."

"And you," she purred. She looked at him. "So good to see more of you nowadays, as well!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, it feels good to actually be able to eat." He raised an eyebrow. "Why are you still in Paris?"

"I'm visiting Robert!" She said, looking surprised. "He's in hospital! Being force fed carbohydrates!" She smiled. "Well, see you!"

She turned, and flounced out. Arthur turned to the two women. "Hospital," he muttered. "Now."

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me, and neither does Jules. Thanks to Celtic Lioness for allowing me to use her in this fic!**

"Do you think we'll be allowed to see him?"

Arthur swallowed, keeping his eyes on the road. He had insisted on driving so Ariadne could fill Jules in with more information about Robert. He carefully darted round some snarled-up traffic.

"I hope so," he replied, calmly. "I think if we tell them we're friends of his, they should let us see him." He stole a glance at Ariadne. "We can't be a worse influence on him than Summer."

"Who is she?" Jules asked.

"Just the rudest, most unpleasant, most obnoxious individual you could ever hope to meet." Arthur raised an eyebrow; he was surprised at how restrained Ariadne was being in describing the other woman.

"But Robert always comes off as obnoxious," Jules commented. "In his interviews, at least." She pulled at her lilac top. Arthur nodded.

"He's not the easiest to get on with," he admitted, as he swung the car into the parking lot. "But, he's sick, and I think he deserves a little compassion and understanding."

He parked the car, and braked. Ariadne leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you," he said, blushing slightly. She smiled. "You're welcome." Suddenly, they both remembered Jules. She was smiling.

"Don't mind me," she said, gently. "Its great to see that my best friend has found someone who can make her happy." Arthur nodded, grateful that he had won the other woman's approval. Turning, he unlocked the car door, and began to leave. Ariadne and Jules followed suite.

"Is Summer here?" Ariadne asked, almost nervously. Her bravado in her description to Jules was dissipating by the prospect of coming face to face with her. Arthur took a look around, and shook his head.

"No sign." He grinned as he turned to her. "Note the lack of media. Even visiting a sick friend is an opportunity for Summer to show off." The three of them began to leave the car, and walked towards the hospital entrance.

* * *

"I'm not eating it."

The young nurse smiled patiently as he surveyed Robert's obstinate expression. "Fine. I'll just leave it here until you want to." Smiling, he turned to leave.

Robert glowered. "Are you deaf! I said I'm not eating it!"

The nurse turned and faced him. "Mr Fischer." He spoke in a tone of concillatory politeness. "I must ask you to please not speak to me like that. I am trying to help you." He looked at him. "As you have been told before, if there's anything you want - strawberries, ice cream, yoghurt, milk, anything - all you have to do is ask, and you'll get it. But, you also need to attempt to eat what's served to you, including today's lunch."

Fischer ignored him, turning his face to the wall. The nurse swallowed. "OK, have it your way. I'll be back in half an hour to check on you."

* * *

"So, which room is he in?" Jules asked, as they passed through the hospital lobby.

"I think he's in-" Arthur was suddenly interrupted by a loud crash, followed by an angry shout. Turning, he hurried down to the room, followed by Ariadne and Jules.

* * *

"I told you, I'm not eating it!" Robert practically screamed at the nurse, who was standing shocked, looking at the food and china fragments on the floor, and the marks where the tray had hit the wall. "I'm not going to be fattened up like some prize turkey! Do you have any idea who I am?"

The nurse blinked. "I think I'm beginning to realise," he said, coolly. "Stay in bed. Don't move." He turned, and moved out of the room, looking for an orderly.

Arthur approached the door, and turned to the two women. "Stay here, please," he asked gently, and went in. He swallowed as he approached the figure in the bed, painfully aware of the tears streaking Robert's cheeks. "Robert?" he asked, gently. "Robert, are you ok?"

Robert turned his head to him. "Oh, Arthur, its-" his self control shattered and he began to sob. "Arthur, I'm - I'm-"

"Hey, its going to be all right." Arthur pulled a chair up next to the bed, and laid a reassuring hand on Robert's arm. "Sshhh. It will be ok."

"No, it won't." Robert's tears were choking his words. "I'm forced to stay here, they're trying to shovel food into me, my career will be over-"

Arthur sighed inwardly. "But this is what your career is doing to you," he said, gently. "You're in a hospital bed!"

"Well," he sniffed, "its better than nothing."

"Robert!"

Arthur froze, then groaned. Summer had appeared, and was walking over to him. "Robert!" she cooed. "What's wrong?"

"Summer, this really isn't-" Robert began, then looked at Arthur. "This really isn't-"

"Isn't what?" she asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Robert, come on, you have to leave here. Before they turn you into a whale!"

"Summer." Arthur glared at her. "Please, just go."

"Oh, don't talk to me!" She spat. "You're turning into a fat boy who dates common little girls! Do you think you're even in the same league as me and Robert now!"

Arthur swallowed, trying to control his anger. "Summer-"

Suddenly, Dr. Bryce walked in. "What's going on?" she asked, sharply.

"He-" Summer snarled, "wants Robert to stay here! But look at how fat he's going to get!" She grabbed Robert's wrist, and yanked it.

"Don't do that!" Bryce snapped. "Did you notice he's attached to an IV pole, which is helping to keep him alive?" She shook her head. "I can assure you, there's no fat on him! You may think so, but he's ill, and needs to stay where he can get care!"

Suddenly, Arthur turned to her. "Dr Bryce," he said, in a shaking voice. "If I could guarantee Robert would be cared for, would you allow him to be released?"

Bryce blinked. "Well, its-"

"I'm sure you'll agree that Robert needs to feel safe," Arthur said, rapidly, a plan forming in his mind. "I'm staying with good friends - Robert will be welcome there."

Bryce swallowed. "Well, I can give you a diet sheet - which will help with basic requirements."

Arthur smiled. "One of my friends is a chef - I think it will work."

Summer looked at Bryce. "You can't be agreeing to this! What type of doctor are you!"

"Please leave." She looked at Summer. "Or I will request security." She looked at Arthur. "I can agree to this - but if there's a sudden deterioration in his condition, he returns."

Arthur nodded. "Agreed." He swallowed, and looked at Robert. The other man was as pale as wax. "Come on," he said gently, as Bryce and a nurse ushered Summer from the room. "Let's get your clothes."

Robert raised an eyebrow. "Quite the Good Samaritan, aren't you?"

"Well, if you want to stay here, you can, but I guarantee that the food's better where you're going." He smiled wryly as he helped Robert stand. "Come on," he said, gently.

Ariadne came in, followed by Jules. "Arthur, what's-" she fell silent as she took in the gaunt, pale appearance of Fischer, who looked at her without a flicker of recognition. Jules took one look at him.

"You look like you could use some home cooking," she said, without a trace of sarcasm in her voice. "Or a lot of it."

"Come on," Arthur said, quietly. Assisted by the two women, he began to lead the other man out of the room. As he cast a glance at Ariadne, she turned, and smiled. Feeling a wave of relief, he reciprocated.

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	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Nor does Jules - she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

"This is your room."

Robert stood, unblinking, on the threshold of the spare room at the Cobb's elegant townhouse. His eyes swept over, surveying the chestnut furniture, and delicately patterned wallpaper. "Thank you," he said coolly, formally. He eyed the suitcase that Arthur presented. Robert had insisted that they stop at the hotel he was currently staying in, and get his clothes.

"Shower is through there," Arthur said, gesturing. Robert nodded. "Thank you."

Arthur looked at the other man. Fischer's expression was closed - he appeared to be struggling with his emotions. "Robert," Arthur said gently, "listen, I know this is all a bit of a-"

"Look, I'm really tired," Robert said, cutting him off abruptly. "Do you mind?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. Listen, I'm going to go downstairs...come join us when you're ready."

Fischer nodded. "All right." Arthur turned to leave, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Ariadne and Jules were in the kitchen. "So, what do you think of him so far?"

"He's cute." Jules looked at her. "Very cute." She grinned. "Better looking than in his pictures. And he really likes you, I can tell."

Ariadne blushed, and began chopping lettuce. "I hope so." She looked at Jules. "What do you think-" she lowered her voice - "Of Robert?"

Jules made a face. "Human lollipop." She shook her head. "First time I've ever seen someone up close who looked like a zombie."

Ariadne bit her lip. "Well, he is a model. I guess he has to stay that thin."

"He doesn't have to be that thin," Jules commented. Suddenly, the doorbell trilled through the house. Ariadne looked up.

"I'll get it!" Arthur shouted, hurrying down the stairs. He opened the door. "Eames!"

"Well, nice of you to remember me," the older man said. "I've been trying to ring you - where have you been?"

Arthur swallowed. "I was - visiting a friend."

"Visiting a friend?" Eames looked puzzled. "Thought Ariadne was- well, hello!" he exclaimed, entering the kitchen. "And you are-?"

"Jules," she said, promptly. She raised an eyebrow. "You are...?"

"This is Eames, my manager," Arthur said, hastily. "Or, soon to be ex-manager."

Eames looked wounded. "So you're really serious then? You're giving this up?"

"Yep." Arthur opened the fridge, and pulled out a bottle of chilled water. "I am."

"I'm disappointed." Eames seated himself. "I'm actually going to have to find either another you...or a proper job!" He shrugged. "Oh well, all good things must come to an end."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You're being very relaxed about all this." He unscrewed the cap on the bottle, and began filling glasses.

"Well, I'm not Peter Browning." Eames looked at him. "Any idea whats happened to Robert Fischer?"

Arthur looked at him. "When did you bump into Browning?"

"Well, its really strange." Eames accepted a glass of water, and leaned back. "I had lunch with Alex - the photographer, about the prospect of you doing one last shoot. Alex had to take a call from Jared, who had had a call from Summer. Apparently, Robert has been kidnapped from the hospital...and Browning is incandescent with rage."

Ariadne cast a worried look at Arthur. "Kidnapped?"

"Well, not kidnapped. More that apparently a concerned friend has offered him a place to stay at while he recovers from his nervous exhaustion." Eames looked at Arthur. "Is he upstairs?"

"Yes." Arthur shrugged. "I had to get him out of there. He was going out of his mind - plus Summer and Jared were visiting. Here, they won't get in."

Eames nodded. "So, what are you going to do? Plant an idea in his head that he shouldn't be a model anymore?"

Arthur scowled. "OK. Here's me planting an idea, Eames." He looked at him. "Don't think about elephants. What are you now thinking of?"

Eames paused. "Elephants."

"Right. I can't implant an idea. What I can do - we can do- is try and persuade him that the dream has become a nightmare, and its time to wake up."

Eames nodded. "OK. But its not me whose going to be defending this to Peter Browning. He's a charming man, you know - I heard him screaming at Fischer once backstage at a photo shoot."

Jules looked up. "What did he say?"

"Oh, that if he wanted to throw his career away, he might not want to lose those two extra lbs." Eames shrugged. "The man's already a bloody toothpick."

Arthur nodded. "Well, good thing we have him here, then, isn't it?"

* * *

Robert was lying on his bed, gazing at the ceiling. His cell phone began to buzz, and he pulled it out of his pocket. The caller id flashed up _Browning._

He ignored it, and turned his head away. Suddenly, there was a soft knock on the door.

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules - she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

Robert turned his head. "Who is it?"

Ariadne opened the door. "Its me, Ari." She came in, closing the door behind her. "Just wanted to check if you're ok."

He nodded. "I'm fine." He turned his head away again, and she hesitated.

"Well, Jules, Arthur and I are making dinner, so if you want to come downstairs and join us, you're welcome."

He nodded. "Thank you."

She bit her lip, and tried another tactic. "Is there any food you can't eat?"

He turned his face to her, and raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"Well, do you have allergies to anything? I know that they exist-"

He smiled. "No wheat, no diary." She looked taken aback. "And I don't eat much meat, either."

"OK." Ariadne smiled again. "We'll bear that in mind."

Turning, she left the room. Robert's phone started to buzz again.

* * *

"Well?" Arthur looked up from the salad he was tossing. "What did he say?"

"No wheat, no diary, and not much meat." Ariadne raised an eyebrow. "He was very convincing."

"Shame you'll be serving him hamburgers tonight then," Eames commented. He looked at Arthur. "Do you really think this is a good idea?"

Arthur rubbed his face. "It was either bring him here, or-"

"Keep him at the hospital, where he was going insane," Jules interjected. She was vigorously making the hamburger patties. "You should have seen him." She shook her head, reaching for the salt. "He was shouting and raving."

"Well, what are you planning on doing?" Eames looked at them. "Tying him to a chair? Spoon feeding him?" He raised an eyebrow at Jules. "Or telling him you'll kiss him for every mouthful he eats?"

Jules smirked. "Please. I don't kiss zombies." She deftly slapped the patties into shape, then carefully placed them on the griddle. "That guy loses another pound, he disappears."

Eames raised an eyebrow. "Well, Summer thinks he's very attractive." He raised an eyebrow. "She seems to gush over him."

"Please." Jules pulled a face. "Can you imagine those two together in bed? They'd stab each other with their hip bones! And play xylophone on each other's ribs!"

Eames choked on the water he was drinking, and Arthur and Ariadne exchanged a look. "Please. We'll be eating soon!" The older man looked at Jules. "Comments like that-"

"Keep your voice down!" Arthur hissed. "I do want him to get comfortable with us!" He bit his lip. "I'll go and talk to him. He doesn't have allergies. He's just been told what he can't eat."

Eames nodded. "Fair enough. I'd better head back." He drained the last of his water, then stood up.

* * *

Robert ignored his phone, and it fell silent. He adjusted, trying, to get comfortable. Then, it started again. Biting his lip, he tentatively picked it up. "Hello?"

"Robert?" Peter Browning's voice floated out of the device. "Where are you?"

"I'm, um-"

"You know I'm not very happy that you left the hospital without telling me." Browning's voice was calm, but there was an undertone of anger. "I do care about your health, Robert. I need to."

"Look, I'm-" Robert sighed. "I, um-"

"Robert. I'm your manager. I'm your godfather. What do you think Maurice would say if he knew about this?"

Robert swallowed. "Listen, I-" He inhaled. "I can't talk now," he whispered, and closed the phone. As he sank back, there was another knock. "Yes?" he called, sharply.

Arthur opened the door. "Hey, its me." He looked at the other man. "You allright?"

"Fine." Robert's voice was toneless. He looked at Arthur. "So, what are we doing tonight? You serving me a four course meal, and then insisting I eat it?"

Arthur swallowed. "Robert, I know that its hard to understand, but I really just want to help you out." He sat on the bed, and looked at him. "I'm lucky. I have a manager who at least treats me like a human being, and not a cash machine."

Robert shrugged. "Well, its what I'm used to."

"Please come downstairs." Arthur looked at him. "Jules has made some fantastic food." He saw a look of panic flit across Robert's face. "But it will be ok."

He nodded. "All right." Arthur turned to leave. "Arthur?"

"Yes, Robert?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Forget it."

"Suit yourself." Arthur looked at him. "I-"

Suddenly, Robert's phone rang again. Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Don't answer-" he stopped. Robert was already sliding the small black device open. "Hello? Oh, Summer."

Furious, Arthur shook his head. "Hang up on here," he whispered. "She won't do you any good!" Robert appeared frozen, the phone clutched in his hand. Arthur bit back an angry retort, and left the room.

* * *

"So she called him? Big deal." Jules shrugged and carefully turned the patties on the griddle. "Its not as though she's here."

"Yes, but she's so-" Arthur swallowed. "Poisonous." He looked at the two of them. "She'll be, 'Oh Robert, they'll make you fat, just leave!'"

* * *

Robert listened to the voice. "Robert, where are you? You know that I have to see you! If you're with Arthur, then-"

"I have to go," Robert said, abruptly. "Speak to you soon."

Before she could protest further, he shut the phone. Shaking slightly, he began to leave the room.

* * *

"So she plants an idea," Ariadne said, her tone forceful. "We'll just have to prove its not true."

"Prove what?"

They looked up. Robert stood framed in the doorway, his pale skin and gaunt appearance accentuated by black jeans, and a loose t-shirt. Arthur, uncomfortably aware the other man may have heard everything, stood up.

"Prove that I can get back into college." He smiled at Robert. "Please. Have a seat."

He sat, and hunched over the table. "Thank you."

"Listen, Robert," Jules spoke, "I hope you eat red meat. Because that's what you're getting tonight."

Robert blinked, and Arthur saw his face pale. "I, um-"

"Its not a problem, is it?" Jules asked, her voice softening slightly. "I mean, it took me a while to make these, and you look as though you could do with some protein."

Robert swallowed, and took a deep breath. "No, its not a problem. Thank you."

Arthur, feeling a wave of relief, sat down. _First battle won. _Picking up his glass of water, he took a tentative sip. Robert was silent, and made no effort to speak.

Suddenly, there was another knock on the door. Arthur got up. "I'll go."

As he approached the door, he realised who it was. "Summer," he said, opening it. "What can I-"

"Where's Robert?" She snapped. "I know he's in here!"

"He's not." Arthur spoke flatly. "Now, I'm sure you've got a busy evening. Bye now!" Before she could protest, he shut the door. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the kitchen. Suddenly, he heard Robert's voice.

"Are you expecting me to eat that much? Are you out of your mind!"

Feeling a sense of dread, Arthur turned and hurried to the kitchen.

**Please review - it is appreciated!**


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me, neither does Jules - she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

Arthur hurried into the kitchen. "What's the problem?" he asked, his tone mild. He noticed that Robert had got up, and backed away from the table. Jules and Ariadne were standing at the other end. Robert was eyeing the hamburger on his plate as though it were a toad.

Robert looked at him. "I can't eat it. Its, its-"

He turned and fled the room. Arthur leaned against the table. "This was-" he swallowed and looked at the two young women - "what I thought would happen." He turned. "I'll go and-"

"No," Jules said, quietly. Arthur stopped. "I'll try and talk to him. But first," she said, pulling out a chair, "why don't we sit down and eat?"

"What if he tries to leave?" Ariadne asked, uncertainly. Arthur shook his head. "He won't. He doesn't have anywhere to go."

She nodded, pulling out her own chair, and sat down. She smiled as she picked up her own hamburger. "These look really good, Jules."

Jules smiled. "Thanks. Pity Robert doesn't want to appreciate them."

"Well, maybe we should try a different route." Arthur mused aloud as he speared salad leaves with his fork.

"Such as?" Jules raised an eyebrow. "I'm not in the habit of force feeding someone." She raised an eyebrow at Arthur. "So don't ask."

"Wasn't going to," he replied. "Its just...trying to get through to him that he doesn't have to be like this."

"Let me try," Jules said, suddenly. Arthur turned to her. "Why?"

"Well, I get the impression that he's a little hostile to you, and the fact you're in a relationship. Maybe thats the problem. Remember, Summer wants him. Maybe he needs some reassurance."

Arthur sighed. "OK. If you think it will work." He looked defeated, and Ariadne reached across and took his hand. "What do you suggest?"

"Why don't you two-" Jules said, pausing to chew and swallow her mouthful of burger - "go out this evening. Take some time out together. I'll talk to Robert."

Ariadne wrapped her fingers around Arthur's. "Sounds good." He squeezed them, grateful for their warmth, and her tolerance. "Thank you, Jules."

"My pleasure."

* * *

Arthur pulled his jacket around him, and smiled as Ariadne followed him out of the house. As they reached the bottom of the elegant townhouse's steps, he turned to her.

"Where shall we go?"

"Shall we..." she paused - "head for the centre? Apparently, there are some terrific bars here. With live music, and performances."

Arthur smiled, and took her hand in his. "Sounds good. You lead, I'll follow."

"Listen," she said gently. "I did have doubts about Robert coming into the house - but, if you think you can help him-"

"Not me," Arthur corrected. "We. Us." Leaning over, he kissed her.

* * *

Jules was wiping down the counter when she heard footsteps. Turning, she saw Robert framed in the doorway. She raised an eyebrow. "Well, hello there."

"Hi," he mumbled. "I, um, just wanted some water."

"Really?" She looked at him. "Have a seat. I'll get it for you."

He shrugged. "If you want to." Pulling out a chair, he seated himself, waiting. Jules grabbed a glass, and filled it with ice water from the fridge.

"Here." She put it down in front of him. Robert nodded. "Thank you." He lifted the glass, and took a sip. Jules busied herself at the sink. "You might need something else. Here."

Robert blinked as she opened the refrigerator, and pulled out a carton of milk. He watched as she poured it, then placed it on the table. "Here you go."

He looked taken aback. "Its milk."

"Yes?"

"I don't drink milk," he said, curtly, and pushed the glass away. She watched him, interested.

"Never?" She probed. "You never drank milk? When you were a child, didn't your mom ever make you milk and cookies?"

He looked at her, and to her astonishment, she could see his bottom lip trembling. "My mother..." he bit his lip. "She would bake. Sometimes. When she wasn't at one of her fundraising committees, or charity functions." He leaned back in his chair. He suddenly remembered himself, aged nine, coming into the kitchen, to find her, with cookies. Chocolate cookies. He swallowed.

"Well, if she baked, you must have eaten them," Jules said, gently. "Just take a sip."

"I can't drink milk," Robert protested. "It makes me...bloat."

"Ever been tested?" Jules asked, standing up. "For lactose intolerance? For wheat allergy? Or is it just something else that's been fed to you, no pun intended?"

Robert looked at her. "I have to keep in shape," he responded. "Its my job." He looked at her. "Do you, Arthur, and everyone else think its ok to waddle down a catwalk?"

"What shape?" Jules retorted. "That of a palm tree?" He glared at her. "Robert, answer me one question. Do people ty and make you feel bad about your weight?"

He got up. "I'm not listening to this. If I wanted psychotherapy I'd go to someone who was trained!"

"OK, walk away." Jules shrugged. "But let me ask you this - your manager, Browning. Is he as thin as you? Does he have a nervous breakdown in front of a hamburger? Does he?"

Robert, who was turning to leave, stopped. His shoulders visibly sagged. He looked at her. "Browning is not what you would call thin. But he tells me I'm fat."

Jules blinked, shocked. "Robert," she said, gently. "Sit down and talk to me."

* * *

"Here." Ariadne stopped outside a bar. "Coming in?"

Arthur smiled. "I'd love to." Raucous sounds of singing were weaving through the door. "Sounds like people are having a good time!"

"Then, this is it. Come on!"

He followed her inside the bar - complete with heavy wooden beams, candles on the tables, and live music. Arthur sighed, and took a deep breath. This place felt so real to him, rather than the glamorous, celebrity riddled haunts he was supposed to go to. He remembered being dragged to one by Eames.

"Come on!" the older man had said. "If you want some fun, this is the place! Look at the women!"

Arthur turned his head, and raised an eyebrow. "I see a lot of human x-rays. Is that it?"

Eames shook his head. "Oh, for God's sake Artie - live a little! I'll get the drinks!"

Arthur shook his head. "Sorry, what was that?"

"I'll get the drinks," Ariadne repeated. "What would you like?"

"Beer, please," Arthur said, nodding. Not cocktails, not champagne - beer. Just like he used to drink as an undergrad.

Ariadne began to move to the bar. "Coming right up!"

* * *

"He told me I was too fat before Paris fashion week, over a year ago. That I was looking podgy. Not lean enough for the clothes." Robert blinked, refusing to meet Jules' eyes. "He told me that if I didn't lose 5 lbs, he wouldn't represent me."

"You should have walked," Jules said pointedly, stirring a cup of coffee.

"Its not that simple. He's my godfather -my father's oldest friend. When I told my father I was going into modelling, he said that Browning would have to represent me." Robert shuddered. "He said he was trustworthy."

"And? What happened in Paris?" Jules pressed.

"He told me I couldn't have more than 500 calories a day," Robert said, slumping. "Anymore, and I'd be huge."

"Robert! That's what they fed inmates who were prisoners of war!" She retorted, standing up. "You're on a starvation diet!"

He looked at her. "I don't have any choice. I'm approaching 35, I'm finding it harder to stay thin."

"Yes, Robert, its called growing older!" Jules looked at him. "But if you carry on like this-"

"Oh, stop it!" He shouted. "You're as bad as Arthur! No - you're worse! You don't even know me, and you make judgements! Why am I here? Why has he brought me here? He doesn't even like me!"

"So would you rather be with your manager?" She challenged. "Rather be with him?"

Robert looked at her. "No," he barely whispered. He sank back down into a chair, remembering.

* * *

Arthur looked at Ariadne. "Another drink?"

She smiled. "Why not?"

He got up. As he walked to the bar, he heard muttered voices. He turned, and realised there were two young women standing there, giggling. He raised an eyebrow. "May I help you?" he asked, politely.

"Are you..." one girl asked, "Arthur Ogilvie, the model?"

Arthur it his lip. "No," he said, trying to hide his face, and the lie. She nodded. "If you aren't, you're better looking," she said, and hurried off, taking her friend with her.

Arthur picked up his drinks and headed back to the table. "Who was that?" she asked, her face creasing. He shook his head.

"Someone who confirmed that leaving modelling is for the best," he said, gently, letting his fingers caress her hand. "Listen, Ari, once Robert gets back on his feet, I'll start to think about-"

She shook her head. "No, Arthur. You need to focus on yourself as well. You're just as important. More important to me."

He lifted her hand, and kissed it. "Thank you." Smiling, she leaned back.

Suddenly, a voice pierced their space. "Arthur! How good to see you!"

* * *

"So, I was invited to dinner by Meredith Pryce. She's the owner of a major fashion house, in New York. She wanted to talk to me about modelling. Browning was there."

"What happened?" Jules asked.

Robert blinked. He remembered it very well - the icily lovely Pryce was sitting opposite him, Browning on his other side. Browning had taken the menu.

"I think I'll have - venison carpaccio, to begin, and then steak, medium rare. Meredith?"

"Salmon please," She'd requested. "But pate to begin."

Browning nodded. "Good. And a green salad, no dressing." He nodded at Robert. "For you."

Jules looked stunned. "So you only got salad?"

"Well, he did order a side of grilled tuna for me." Robert looked at her. "And then, at the end, he said ' don't even think about dessert. You know how plump you'll get!"

"What did Pryce say?"

"She looked at me, and said, 'I think you're carrying too much weight at the moment, Mr Fischer.'" He swallowed. "I had to lose 5lbs to get the contract."

"And how did you do that?" Jules asked, gently.

Robert looked at her. "It was a method an ex of mine told me. By making myself vomit." He looked at her. "Satisfied now?" Standing up, he began to leave the room. "Oh, and I'll tell you this," he said, coldly. "You force me to eat, I'll just carry on doing it."

Biting her lip, Jules watched him go.

* * *

"Jared!" Arthur looked at him. "Nice to see you." Rolling his eyes, he picked up his bottle of beer. Jared smirked. "Seen Fischer lately?"

"No," Arthur responded.

"Really? Interesting. His manager is going insane." Jared raised an eyebrow. "He's a very powerful man, Arthur."

"And Fischer's a very sick one. He's malnourished and unhappy."

"Oh, so you do know where he is? Listen, why don't I come and visit?"

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	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me, and neither does Jules. Thanks to Celtic Lioness for allowing me to use her in this fic!**

Arthur swallowed, and looked at Jared. "No. I don't think so."

The other man's face hardened. "You don't think so? He's in your house, isn't he?" His eyes began to glitter like ice. "What are you planning on doing? Making sure he ends up as much of a fat loser as you?"

Arthur looked at him. "Coming from you-" he swallowed, trying to contain his anger. "You just watched him collapse at that photo shoot. You didn't even try and help him." He looked at Jared, his dislike of the man barely concealed. "You watched him pass out. You saw how ill he was - he still is."

Jared shrugged. "He knows the risks. You've got to admire Fischer - he's nearly 35, he's really getting too old for this - and yet he won't give up."

Arthur looked at him. "He could have died." His voice became low, and controlled. "He makes himself vomit - he's tearing himself apart, because of people like you!"

Jared looked at him, and shrugged. "Well, he didn't. Still, there's no guarantee he won't the next time."

Furious, Arthur grabbed the other man's jacket lapels, and shove him up against the wall, ignoring the shocked gasps of the assembled bar goers. "He's not going to again. There won't be a next time, you hear me? Because he's going to get some help!"

Jared looked at Arthur, and smirked - a smirk which turned into a full blown laugh. "Oh, Jesus, Arthur, you are so naive. You really think a man like Robert Fischer, is going to listen to an overgrown boy scout like you? Be content with a mousy little thing like that chick you're hanging around with? He's a walking statue! There is no-one as pretty as him in modelling! He should be with someone like Summer - and not friends with someone like you!"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "He hangs out with you and Summer, he won't be a walking statue. He'll be a walking corpse."

"Checked his pockets?" Jared smiled, smugly. "Think you might find something interesting there." He looked at Arthur. "Something white, and powdery. How else do you think he keeps that figure? Aside from shoving his fingers down his throat? Amazing he even gets a date!"

Arthur looked at him. "You're sick," he hissed. "Completely."

* * *

"Right, stay there." Robert blinked but didn't try and get up. Jules was pulling ingredients out of the cupboard, and measuring spoons. "What are you-" he swallowed. "What are you making?"

"Cookies." She looked at him. "Are you ok with raisin and honey?"

Robert blanched. "Jules, I - I don't eat cookies-"

"Robert. You don't eat anything. That's your problem."

He looked at her, his face reddening. "I do eat! I just don't feel the need to stuff myself all day, like everyone else!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? So eating three balanced meals a day is stuffing yourself? Very strange way of looking at things."

"Well, it is if you're a model," he said, haughtily. She looked at him. "Arthur's a model...and he eats."

Robert shrugged. "Well, I guess I follow his example." He looked round the kitchen. "Oh, I see you haven't brought the cage in yet - the one you're all planning on shoving me into, then getting me to poke my finger out through the bars."

Jules chuckled. "Sorry, you've lost me." She concentrated on measuring out flour, then mixed in butter. "Care to elaborate?"

Robert leaned forward. "I was thinking of the fairy tale Hansel and Gretel." His voice was soft. "Where a wicked witch shoves a poor boy into a cage, so she can fatten him up without him escaping."

Jules looked at him. "And if I remember correctly, she planned to eat him. Don't worry, I'm not into cannibalism. But the cage should arrive tomorrow."

Robert looked at her. "Whatever you say." She shot him a glance, and smirked. He sat up. "What?"

"Nothing, except you should stop looking so sullen. This is to help you."

"Yeah, right," he muttered. "I just feel like a turkey being made ready for Thanksgiving." He buried his face in his hands. "Its hard."

"Yes, but you're not a turkey, and I don't intend to stuff you like one." She patted the cookies into shape, and then put the tray in the oven. "There. 30 minutes!"

* * *

"Arthur!" Ariadne's voice cut through the tension. "Please, leave him - he's not worth it!"

Arthur took a step back, his face relaxing. "You're right," he said softly. Turning, he scooped up his jacket and porceeded to leave, Ariadne hurrying after him. He pushed his way through the crowded bar area, and headed for the door.

"Arthur!" Ariadne spoke more forcefully. "Stop!"

He paused. Sweat was trickling between his shoulder blades, and he turned to look at her. Her face was a mask of concern. "Arthur, please - let me help you."

He blinked, and looked at her. "He didn't care that Fischer was dying," he managed to choke out. "He saw him lying there, and all he could think about-"

Ariadne reached up, and carefully brushed the tears that were running down Arthur's cheeks. Pulling her close, he buried her head in his shoulder. "I don't know," he said, anguished. "He doesn't like me, but I want to help him!"

"I know you do, she whispered. "I know."

* * *

"Right." Jules opened the oven, and pulled out a tray. "Cookies." Using a metal slice, she carefully detached them from the baking sheet, and placed them on the metal cooling rack. "Give them a few minutes."

Robert was looking at them with an expression of almost horror. She quickly slid one off the rack, onto a plate, and put it before him. "Here." She deftly turned, and picked up a cookie, and took a bite. "Mmmm."

He looked at her. "Its not going to work."

"What isn't?"

"You, eating that. Its not going to work!"

She shrugged. "I'm eating it because I'm hungry, and because I baked them." She took another bite. "Its not to get at you, Robert. Trust me, the whole world does not revolve around a spoiled, rich, pretty boy who happens to walk down a cat walk for a living."

He glared at her, his anger mounting. "Oh, so now you're going to insult me?"

"No," Jules shook her head. "You're just pissed that I'm not sitting here, cooing over you. Making eyes at you. Sorry, but I like my men to be a little more...cuddly."

He went red. "Look, I can eat...here..." he picked up a cookie, and held. Its sweetness made for an intoxicating scent. Slowly, he put it in his mouth, and took a bite. It started to dissolve, and the taste was electrifying.

"Good?" Jules asked, brushing a crumb off her lips.

Robert nodded. "Its very good," he said. "Very good. But-" He got up, and began to move away from the table. Jules, realising what he was planning on doing, put the cookie down, and began to follow him.

"Robert!" She hurried after him. "Robert, don't even try it! You barely ingested ten calories in that bite!"

"You can't stop me!" He shouted, and she picked up her pace. Just as he was about to go into the bathroom, she grabbed his shoulder.

"You do this, I'm telling Arthur!" She shouted, feeling ashamed of herself. She bit her lip, furious he'd put her in the position of being the playground sneak.

Suddenly, another voice was heard.

"Tell me what?"

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	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules- she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

Robert blinked, and turned to face Arthur. The younger man was standing in the hallway, his arms crossed, his expression calm. He raised an eyebrow.

"Tell me what, Robert?"

He shook his head. "Nothing," he muttered. Pushing past Arthur, he ran to his room, and slammed the door. Arthur sighed, and rubbed his forehead. "Great."

Ariadne bit her lip. "Maybe one of us should-"

"No, leave him," Arthur said, gently. "I think he's had as much attention as he can handle for the time being."

Turning, he began to walk down the stairs. Jules was standing on the landing, looking at Robert's door. Ariadne, struck by the expression on her face, paused.

"Are you all right?"

"Just thinking," Jules commented. She turned to her best friend, and smiled. "Shall we go?"

* * *

Robert lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His stomach groaned, and he clenched at it, cursing what he'd eaten.

_The cookie. _Blinking, he got up, and moved to the door. Listening, he heard no movements on the stairs. He relaxed, his spirits beginning to lift. Carefully, he unlocked the door, and began to walk across the hallway to the bathroom.

* * *

Arthur sat on the couch, and Ariadne settled next to him. He sighed deeply, and leaned his head on her shoulder. "Am I doing the right thing? Remind me."

She turned to him. There was a look of concern in his eyes, which she was becoming familiar with. She swallowed, and stroked his cheek. "Yes."

He turned to her. "I'm sorry. I'm not being very good company this evening, and I'm becoming more of a babysitter for Fischer than I am with-"

He stopped. "Was that his-"

"I'll go." Jules interjected from the hallway. She had returned downstairs to the kitchen, intending to allow Ariadne and Arthur some privacy. As she heard his door open, she'd moved back towards the stairs.

* * *

Robert stood in the bathroom, and exhaled, slowly. Then slowly, carefully, he flipped the toilet seat up, and began to kneel down. He inhaled, tried to steady his breathing. He opened his mouth.

Suddenly, there was a bang on the door. "Hey, you ok?"

He got up, angrily, wincing at twinges in his joints. "Haven't you heard of privacy?" he snarled, unlocking the door and opening it. His eyes widened as he saw Jules standing in front of him.

She looked at him. "Have you heard of digestion? Its a natural function after you eat. And you didn't eat enough to sustain a fly."

Robert glared, furious. "Get out of my way." He began to walk towards her, and she stood steadfast.

"No." She shook her head. "You're not going anywhere until we reach a basic understanding."

"I am not staying here, to take orders from you!" He narrowed his eyes. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

Jules raised her eyebrow. "Yes. Someone who doesn't know what's good for him."

* * *

Arthur heard the raised voices, and looked at Ariadne. She shook her head. "Jules can handle him," she said quietly. "I know that sounds selfish, I know he's sick, but-" she let her voice trail away, suddenly becoming fearful that she had gone too far.

Arthur was looking at her. "No, you're right." He began to massage her feet, which she had stretched out on the couch. "He's an adult, he needs to be able to-" He stopped. "Its just-" He rubbed his face.

"I feel sorry for him," he said, finally. "He doesn't really have anyone. No family, and he's not got any serious relationships, as far as I know. When we did shows together, he always looked alone. Lost."

Ariadne looked at Arthur. The genuine concern etched into his face made her heart ache. She reached out. "Arthur. Listen to me. You are not responsible for Robert. You can help him, but he has to want to help himself as well. And if you're ever going to get over modelling, over what its done to you, you need to accept that, so you can move on."

He leaned over, and kissed her. "You're right. You're so right." He swallowed. "But - shall we give Jules some help?"

Ariadne nodded. "Yes."

* * *

"You've really got a nerve, you know that?" Robert was practically snarling. "You don't even know me, and yet you make judgements, you try and give me orders, you-"

"I do exactly what everyone else has always done," she interrupted. "You've always let people make decisions for you. That's why you're in this position now."

"I don't," Robert said, his face on the verge of crumpling. "I don't, I-"

"Robert?"

His head snapped up. Arthur and Ariadne were standing behind Jules. Arthur met his eyes, his stance solid. He looked at Robert, and kept his tone calm.

"Robert, tell me. Do you have something on you? Something that might be damaging?"

Robert blinked. "Say what you mean, Arthur."

"Robert." Arthur kept his voice level, and his eyes on the other man. "Do you have any cocaine on you?"

Robert looked at him. "No." His voice was soft. "No Arthur, I don't. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

Silently, he walked past the others, and headed for his room. Arthur looked at him. "Ro-"

"Let him go," Jules said softly. "Please."

He looked at her. "You're right," he said, quietly.

* * *

Robert shifted on his bed, biting his lip. On impulse, he pulled out his cellphone, and dialled.

After a brief pause, it began to ring. Suddenly, it clicked, and he heard a voice. "Hello? Robert? Is that you?"

"Yes, Uncle Peter", he said, quietly. "Its me."

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules- she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

"Oh, Robert!" Browning's voice sounded sorrowful. "Where have you been? I've been so worried!"

Robert swallowed. "I'm - at someone's house, Uncle Peter."

"Right." Browning sounded disconcerted. "Well, all you need to do is tell me where, and you'll be collected. You haven't forgotten that Giovanni wants you to be the face of his fashion house?"

"No." Robert's tone was subdued. "I haven't." He took a deep breath. "Uncle Peter, I don't think I'll be ready for it. I-"

"What do you mean, not ready for it?" His business manager's tone took on a hard edge. "Robert, if you've put on weight at this friend's house, you know that there are steps I will take. I can get a prescription for you. Something to help your metabolism."

"I know." Robert took a deep breath. "I know you can."

"You know, I'm disappointed in you, Robert." Browning's voice slithered out of the tiny device like a snake. "I thought, at the hospital, we had a deal. But it seems you've let me down. Are you going to end up like Arthur Ogilvie?"

"I-"

"Listen, I don't have time to continue this. Tell me the number of the house, and I'll come over and get you collected. In fact, I'll come over as well. Its not every day you turn up at a hospital to be told that the patient you've come to collect has already been collected."

"The number of the house," Robert faltered, "is on Decatour Street, number 458."

"Thank you, Robert. I'll see you soon."

He clicked off. Robert lay back on the bed. Swallowing, he tried to compose himself, then got up.

* * *

"Relax," Ariadne said, turning to Arthur. "He's upstairs, and not going anywhere."

"Agreed," Jules commented. She had walked into the lounge, bearing a plate. With a graceful knee bend, she crouched down next to Ariadne and Arthur. "Cookie?"

"Thank you," Arthur said appreciatively, picking one up. He bit into it, letting the sweetness melt on his tongue. "Mmm. This is great." He closed his eyes.

Jules' lips quirked into a smile. "Looks like someone needed that!"

Arthur opened his eyes, and raised an eyebrow. "A sugar boost never hurt anyone."

Ariadne shrugged. "Tell that to Robert."

He looked at her, quickly. "Ari - I-" he swallowed. "I'm sorry. This was not a good idea. I-"

"Don't." She said. She looked at him directly, making full eye contact. "Just don't. OK, I'm not overly thrilled about him being here. He's arrogant, rude, and doesn't seem to like any of us. But he's sick, Arthur. He's ill. And you're the first person whose even tried to help him. You can't give up."

"I agree," Jules said, quietly. "But maybe you should try a different tack. Try and get him to think about what he wants to do, rather than model."

Arthur shrugged. "He's the heir to a major corporation, maybe he should think about going into business. He'd get to sit behind a desk, eat pastries, drink coffee, and no-one would dare comment on the size of his waistline."

Ariadne looked at him. "You need to tell him that."

"Oh, I will, but-"

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Jules got up. "I'll go," she volunteered. Arthur leaned back on the couch. Suddenly, Ariadne moved over, and kissed him.

"Wow, thank you," he whispered, huskily. He traced his finger down her jawline. "You're so lovely," he whispered.

She smiled. "Considering you've met some of the top models in the world-"

"Please." He raised an eyebrow. "Quite a few of them were like Summer." He shuddered. "Obsessed with how they looked, telling me that I was wrong for even daring to look at a cookie or slice of pie." He turned to her. "Trust me, I-"

"Now now, not in front of company!"

Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes. Eames was standing in the lounge, grinning. "Good to see you, Artie. Thought I'd drop by - I'm flying back to London tomorrow."

"You are?" Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Any particular reason?"

"Yes - I need to find a new you!" He swung himself down into an armchair. "And, well, just wonder how I'm going to cope with the loss of my major star."

"Eames." Arthur spoke carefully. "I'm not doing this to spite you, I promise."

"I know." Eames leaned back. "Its just - well." He turned to him. "Where's Fischer?"

"Upstairs. Sleeping." Arthur got up, and walked to the liquor cabinet. He looked at the assembled group. "Anyone fancy a drink?"

Eames nodded. "I'm up for it. And-" he stopped. Suddenly, a tread was heard on the stairs. He looked at Arthur. "I thought you said Fischer was sleeping?"

"He is." Setting his jaw, Arthur put down the glass he was holding, and hurried into the hallway. Robert was walking down the stairs, clutching the bag he'd brought with him. Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Robert. Where are you going?"

Fischer looked through him, his eyes glacial. "Leaving," he said, coldly. "I don't need to be here."

Arthur looked at him. "Robert. You're not going anywhere. Put the bag down."

"And stay for what?" he spat contemptuously. "To be fattened up like a prize pig by you and those two girls you picked up?" He glared at Arthur. "Your career is over, finished. Mine is still alive!"

Arthur blinked. Suddenly, he reached out, and slammed the other man against the wall. Robert choked.

"You carry on with this, and you'll be dead, and so will your career!" He looked at him, full in the face. "Listen to me. You could barely walk out of the hospital! Stay here, and you might start to feel better!"

Robert shook his head. "No," he said, softly.

Eames appeared. "What's going on?" he said sharply. He looked at Robert. "Christ, Fischer, you look awful. Need a hand?"

Robert flared his eyes at him. "Well, thank you." He looked at Eames and sneered. "You're looking a little soft, yourself."

"Yes, well, no-one really looks at me, so I don't feel the need to try and kill myself over it." Eames shrugged.

"Robert, you-"

Suddenly, there was another knock on the door. Arthur gritted his teeth. "Eames, tell them to leave," he snapped. The older man went to the door.

"Peter?" Eames' face creased in puzzlement. "What are you-"

"Robert!" Browning strode in. "Good to see you- you're not looking too good." He smiled. "Still, we can fix that. Come on."

"He's not going anywhere." Arthur looked at Browning. "This is someone else's house, you're entering without permission. Now leave."

"Arthur, I really wouldn't take that tone," Browning said, smugly. "I can-"

"You can't do anything," Arthur snapped.

"Look," Browning snarled, "He-" he pointed at Robert - "is nothing more than a face and a body. That's it. And he'll do what I say."

"And you'll do what we say," Eames interjected. He stepped in between them. "Now, leave, before I throw you out."

Arthur looked at Robert, whose icy composure was beginning to crack. Browning threw them a scornful glance. "You haven't heard the last of this," he snapped, coldly. Eames escorted him to the front door. "And lovely to see you too," he said, cheerfully, as he shut and locked it.

"Right," Arthur looked at Robert. "Care to explain what he meant by fixing it?"

Robert looked at him. "I dont have to tell you anything."

"No. So shall I call the hospital, tell them to do some blood tests?" He looked at him. "What sort of things did Browning give you, Robert?"

The older man bit his lip, and looked frantically about him. "I-"

"What was it?" Arthur persisted.

"Diet pills," Robert whispered. "He gave me diet pills."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Jules and Ariadne, standing in the hallway with them, looked stunned.

"Well," Eames spoked softly. "That explains a lot of things."

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

"Diet pills?" Arthur repeated. "He gave you diet pills?"

Robert swallowed. "Yes." Turning, he began to walk away from the group. Arthur stared at him as he retreated. "Robert!"

"What?" he mumbled, turning round.

"Are you-" Arthur stopped, unable to finish the sentence. "Are you going to bed?"

Robert nodded, coolly. "Yes."

Unable to think of anything constructive to say in the face of Robert's monosyllabilism, Arthur let the other man go, a mixture of anger and sadness rising within him.

Jules looked at him. "There's nothing you can do. For the moment," she added, hastily. Arthur met her eyes, and shrugged. A defeatist attitude was starting to take hold.

"I just-" he stopped, and swallowed. "I just wonder if there's anything I can do." Rubbing his forehead, he turned and walked back into the lounge, not meeting anyone's eyes.

Ariadne looked up, and caught Eames' gaze. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Let him go, for the moment," he said, gently. He smiled at her, reassuringly.

"Shall we go for a walk?"

"I, um-"

"Ari." Jules interrupted, speaking slightly abruptly. "I'm going to go and see if Robert's ok." She met Ariadne's look of surprise stolidly. "Arthur will be fine. You need to relax, as well."

"We're only going to go round the block," Eames said, quietly. "Nothing too long. We'll be back soon."

Ariadne shrugged. She was beginning to feel a sting of resentment towards Robert, who had crashed into their lives and was on the verge of disrupting everything. "OK," she said, not making eye contact with either Eames or Jules, "let's go."

As the two of them left, Jules shut the door. She glanced through the lounge door, and saw Arthur stretched out on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Biting her lip, she turned and began to walk up the stairs.

* * *

"You don't like him, do you?"

Ariadne looked up at Eames, whose broad frame virtually eclipsed her as they walked along the street. She exhaled slowly. "Do you mean Robert?" she asked, neutrally.

"No, I mean Arthur," Eames said, frowning. When she failed to smile, he swallowed. "OK, sorry. Bad joke. But, be honest. I don't especially like Fischer either. He's always been obnoxious."

"Its just-" Ariadne bit her lip. "Its just he's there. Always. And whilst Arthur wants to help him, I feel-"

"You want him all to yourself," Eames finished. "You could do without Fischer there, without the possible media presence, without anyone else."

She nodded. "Yes." She cast a shy look at the older man. "Does that sound selfish?"

Eames shook his head. "No. Just honest." He met her eyes. "And you need to tell him that. Because Arthur's a good man. That's why he's helping Robert. And you're clearly a good match, otherwise you wouldn't be going along with it."

* * *

Lying in the dark, Robert pulled the covers up over his body, and rested his hands under his head. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of being alone. The mattress felt soothing to his back, and he winced slightly as he adjusted his position. He exhaled slowly, letting the stress of Browning's visit ebb away.

Suddenly, there was a sharp knock on the door. "Robert?"

He blinked, cursing. "Leave me alone!" he snapped, his tone forceful. "Just leave me in peace!"

Undeterred by his tone, Jules opened the door slightly, and peeked through. "I think you've been on your own enough," she commented, easing her way in and closing the door behind her. "And the people you've been surrounded with haven't done you any good."

Robert narrowed his eyes. "You think you know everything," he commented, venom laced through his voice. "But you don't." Turning over, he burrowed himself down in the pillows. Jules merely walked forward, and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Robert." She spoke forcefully, her tone urging him to twist his head and look at her. "Robert, look at me." To her relief, he finally turned, and made eye contact.

"What?"

"Where are the pills?" She spoke calmly, and saw his face twitch.

"I don't know."

"I think you're lying to me," she said, quietly. "And I think its because you're scared."

He raised an eyebrow. "I think you're playing at being a therapist. And it isn't going to wash. Leave me alone."

"OK." She got up. "But think about this, Robert. The pills you're taking can cause massive health problem. But at least you'll be a thin corpse, right?"

"You have no idea." Robert spoke softly. "No idea what its like doing this."

She looked at him. "No idea? No idea what its like being rich, pampered, and having people constantly tell you you're wonderful? No Robert, you're right, I don't know." She began to get off the bed. "But I also don't know what its like to be so lonely, so unhappy, that you think abusing yourself for the sake of being in a magazine is all that matters." She began to walk towards the door. "But as long as you're happy with your life the way it is, then-"

"They're in the top drawer."

She stopped. "What?"

"The pills." His voice was barely a whisper. "Please. Take them."

She pulled open the drawer of the bureau, and found a bottle. Picking it up, she squinted at the contents. They looked perfectly harmless, but as she examined the gaunt figure lying in the bed, she began to wonder what was happening to him. "I'll take these. And no, you're not getting them back."

There was a ghost of a smile on Robert's face. "I'd be disappointed if you let me."

* * *

_You've made a mistake. Fischer doesn't want help. He won't take it. Let him go. _

Arthur swung his legs round, and rubbed his forehead. "I can't," he muttered. He heard footsteps, and forced his face into a smile as Jules entered the room. She nodded at him. "You ok?"

"Yep." He didn't feel he could elaborate further, and sank back into the couch. "How is he?"

She held up the bottle. "He gave me the pills."

Arthur nodded. "Well done." He sighed. "Jules, I think I need to-"

"What?"

He rubbed his face. "I need to-"

Suddenly, the front door opened, and Ariadne walked in. Jules nodded, and left. Arthur stood up, and swallowed. The air in the room was suddenly thickening with tension. Ariadne looked at him, and he held out his hands. "Come here," he said, softly.

As they laced their fingers together, she took a deep breath. "Arthur. We need to talk. Properly."

He nodded. "I know."

"But first-" she looked at him, and smiled softly. "Will you walk me up the stairs?"

He smiled. "Of course."

* * *

"OK, I'll leave you to sleep." Jules spoke authoratively. "And tomorrow...I cook, and you eat. Properly."

He swallowed. "OK. I'll try."

"Oh, and one more thing." She held her hand out. "Cell phone. Just in case Browning tries to call again."

Grudgingly, he held out the small device. "Finished being my jailer for the evening?"

She nodded. "Oh yes."

"Well, before you go, you'd better take this." He held out a small bag, full of white powder. Blinking, Jules took it. "Thank you. See you tomorrow."

She turned, her heart racing, and her hands full of the three items Robert had given up. As she began to close the door, she noticed Ariadne and Arthur walking across the landing, their arms wrapped around each other. Smiling, she headed for her own room.

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	35. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Nor does Jules - she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

Ariadne stood with Arthur outside her room. She looked at him, almost uncertainly. He nodded, and ran his fingers lightly down her face.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she whispered. He nodded, and then took her hand.

"Tomorrow, we do something special," he said, quietly. "Something away from everything. I was thinking..." he bet down, and whispered in her ear, softly. She smiled, and tilted her face upwards. "Sounds wonderful."

He nodded. "I need to spend some time with you. I want to." Touching her cheek again, he leaned down, kissed her, and then headed to his own room.

As he walked across the hallway, he was unaware of the door that was slightly cracked open, or the bitter jealousy playing across Robert's face.

* * *

Jules was surprised to see Arthur already in the kitchen the next morning. "Thought you'd be sleeping in," she commented, as she walked to the coffee percolator.

Arthur shook his head. "No chance." He looked at the attractive red head. "I'm taking Ariadne out today." He gestured to the ham and cheese he was carefully layering in baguettes. "A picnic." He smiled. "Down by the river."

Jules nodded, pouring the black liquid into a mug. "Sounds perfect." She grinned at Arthur. "Quiet, and romantic."

He nodded. "Yes." He looked at her. "What else do you think I should take, food wise? You're a chef."

"Apples, and water." She nodded. "And maybe some of the cookies I made."

For the next few minutes, he carefully packed the food into a hamper, whilst Jules quietly sipped her coffee. As he closed the lid with a flourish, his phone started to vibrate. Puzzled, he pulled it out. "Hello?"

"Arthur!" a voice screeched through the tiny device. "Where is Robert?"

Arthur grimaced, and shut the phone. "Wrong number," he said, and opened the refrigerator to pull out a bottle of water. Jules looked at him.

"Arthur. Who was it?"

He blushed. "Summer." He grimaced. "Clearly, she's determined to get her claws into Robert."

Jules shook her head. "You go out with Ari. Have fun. Relax. I'll deal with him...and her, if she turns up."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You're sure?"

"Yes." She smiled. "All I need to do is wave a cup of sugar in her face and she'll scream and shrivel up."

Arthur started to chuckle. "If only!" Shaking his head, he fastened the hamper, then turned as he heard footsteps. He smiled as Ariadne appeared. Clad only in jeans and a sot pink t-shirt, he thought she looked impossibly pretty. "Morning," he said, walking over and kissing her. "Shall we go?"

She nodded. "As soon as I've had coffee." As she reached for a mug, they heard footsteps, and the door opened. Arthur turned, as did Jules. Robert stood in the doorway.

"Morning," he said, hesitantly. Arthur nodded. "Morning." Picking up the hamper, he began to leave the kitchen. Ariadne took a few swallows of coffee, and followed him. Robert blinked, startled by their abrupt exits.

"See you guys later!" Arthur called from the hallway. "Have fun!" Jules retorted, opening the refrigerator. The front door closed, and blinking, Robert turned to Jules.

"I, uh- what are you doing?" He watched as she pulled bacon out of the cold appliance, and laid it on the table.

"Making breakfast," she said, without blinking. "French toast. Bacon. Or would you prefer pancakes?"

Robert swallowed. "I'd prefer yoghurt."

Jules shook her finger at him. "No. No yoghurt. You've been on a starvation regime long enough. Bacon. Protein. Thats it."

Robert reddened with anger. "You don't have the right to dictate to me-"

"Sit down," she interrupted. He sat, grudgingly. "Here. Drink this."

He blinked. "What is this?"

"Coffee."

"Its white."

"Yes. And it has two sugars in it. Thats ok, isn't it?"

* * *

Arthur smiled happily as he and Ariadne walked down to the river. The weather was warm and sunny, and he'd deliberately left his jacket at home. She laced her fingers through his, and he clasped her hand, tightly.

"This is lovely," she said, "such a good idea."

"I know," he said, smiling. "I think we needed this. We need to talk. About everything."

She nodded, and they continued to walk in silence until they reached a small grassy knot, near the river's bend. They settled down, enjoying the warmth of the sun. He pulled a blanket out from the hamper, and spread it out.

"Here."

She sat down, and he joined her. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, and she could hear the gentle chatter of birds, the ripples of the water. Finally, he turned to her.

"Ari?"

"Yes?"

He reached out, and took her hand.

"Will you come back to New York with me?"

* * *

"I can't drink that." Robert looked at her. "Please."

"Just try it," she urged. "Take a sip."

He glowered at her. "No."

She shrugged. "OK." Turning her back to him, she continued to cook, by carefully placing strips of bacon into a frying pan. She gently poked them into the heated oil. She turned, and noticed he was picking up the mug, and taking a sip.

"Don't you ever have cream in coffee?"

"No. Its always black. No calories."

Jules shrugged. "Well, here you go." He blinked, and then looked horrified. In front of him was a plate with two strips of bacon, and two pieces of french toast.

"Enjoy!" Jules sat at the end, with her own plate. He swallowed, and shook his head.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't eat this," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Yes, you can." Jules cut into the bacon, and placed a piece into her mouth. "Its simple."

* * *

"Back to New York with you?"

"Yes, well, I don't mean right away," Arthur said, looking slightly flustered. "I mean, you're in graduate school, I want you to finish, but I'm thinking of enrolling in college myself. Finishing my degree. Graduating. Actually doing someting worthwhile."

"Well, its a big commitment," Ariadne said, biting her lip.

"Ariadne. I love you." Arthur took her hands. "Its as simple as that."

* * *

Robert took a deep breath. She could see the muscles in his face twitching. "Its..." he looked at her. "This is..." then, he dropped the cutlery on his plate, and pushed it aside. "I'm not eating it." He looked at her, defiantly. "I'll blow up."

She shook her head. "God, you've been programmed well. Robert, you will not gain an ounce. And even if you put on 25lbs, you'll still be about 5lb away from what you should weigh."

He choked. "I'm not gaining that much." He glared at her.

Jules shrugged. "Suit yourself. But, I'll give you a piece of advice. No girl wants to hold a skeleton."

He glared at her. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, if you want to find love like Arthur-"

Robert shoved his chair back. "OK, if you think that, then hold me!"

Jules blinked. "What?"

"Hold me!" it was almost a demand. "Tell me what you think!"

She nodded. "OK."

Jules got up, and walked towards him. She placed her arms around his waist, and pulled him close. He reciprocated, and she shivered. All she could feel were the ridges of his spine, and feel the splayed, exposed ribs. She winced as he pulled her close, his bones digging into her.

"Robert," she muttered, gently. "I'm sorry. But you really need to gain some weight. Let me help you."

* * *

"Yes."

"What?" Arthur looked at her, his dark eyes sparking with hope. "What is it?"

"Yes," she replied. "I will come back to New York with you. I can enroll at Columbia. And Arthur..."

"Yes?"

"I love you too."

He pulled her close, and their lips met in a kiss.

* * *

****Robert nodded, and suddenly, she felt his body shake. "What is it?" she whispered, feeling his fragile form crumple forward in her arms.

He pulled back slightly, and she could see his eyes were shining with tears. "Help me. Please."

Jules nodded. "I will."

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	36. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Thank you for reading and reviewing the previous chapter!**

"Come on," Jules said, softly. "Let's go and sit down."

Gulping and sniffling, Robert allowed himself to be led to the living room couch. Jules settled him on it. "Here. I'll get you some water."

She walked back into the kitchen, letting him sob. She bit her lip as she filled a glass with ice water. It seemed almost voyeuristic, as though she were intruding on someone else' pain. But, as she carried the glass into the lounge, it seemed to have done him good. As though a well of unhappiness had finally burst free.

"Here you go." She carefully placed the glass onto the table, and sank down onto the other couch. Robert stopped, sniffled, then reached for the water and took a sip.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it." She paused, wondering what she could say next. He wanted her help...but would he ever admit to what was really wrong? Leaning back, she waited for him to speak.

"I suppose you..." he stopped, trying to compose his thoughts.

"Suppose what?"

"I suppose you think I'm really self-indulgent." His sky blue eyes met hers. "That I'm just a spoiled brat."

Jules swallowed. She had to resist a burning temptation to say _yes._ But she knew that if she did, it would serve no purpose. "I think you have some issues," she said, calmly. "Do you want to talk about them?"

Robert looked at her. "What are your parents like, Jules?"

* * *

Arthur sighed, and stretched out in the sun, letting it warm his face. He smiled as Ariadne cuddled down beside him.

"This is so peaceful," he said, softly. "Its wonderful."

Ariadne squinted. "See that cloud?"

"Which one?"

"That one. To the left." She pointed upwards. "Do you know what it reminds me of?"

Arthur looked at her, and raised an eyebrow. "No idea. Tell me."

"It reminds me of Hawaii," she said, finally. "Look at the curve-"

"Hawaii," Arthur interrupted, his mind whirling. "Do you want to spend a vacation there?"

Ariadne looked at him. "Before or after I move to New York?"

He looked at her. "I was thinking before. I promised Eames I do London fashion week, which is where I'll announce I'm leaving modelling. Then, its a case of us sorting out what we need, but I really want to take you somewhere warm and slightly exotic."

She looked at him. "Sure you don't just want to see me in a garland?"

He smirked. "Of course. Preferably, just that."

He laughed in mock protest as she playfully pumulled him. He took her hand, and kissed the palm. "Seriously. Warm sand, beautiful sunsets...and I get to be with you, with no interruptions. How does that sound?"

She turned and looked at him. "Perfect," she said, softly.

* * *

"My parents?" Jules looked at him, trying to guage how he wanted her to answer the question. "Well...we get along ok. No pressure."

Robert swallowed. "Wish I could say the same about mine."

"Really?" Jules pressed.

Robert nodded. "My father and I...we didn't get along. And when he found out I was going into modelling, it made things worse."

"Worse?"

Robert paused. He could still remember his father's face, contorted with anger, and the confrontation that they'd had. "You're wasting yourself!" Maurice Fischer had raged. "Throwing yourself away! Are you really planning to do this, Robert? You know what I want you to do!"

"Be like you," Robert had responded bitterly. "And die old and alone."

"You-"

"Robert?"

He blinked. Jules' voice had pulled him out of his reverie. "Yes?"

"Did you go into modelling as a way of rebelling against your father?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps." He swallowed. "Then Browning offered to be my manager. That mollified him slightly."

"Any other reason?"

Robert looked at her. "Well, I'll put it this way. You try growing up in a household where you're meant to feel that nothing you do is ever good enough, where your made to feel a constant-" he swallowed. "Before he died, he called me to his deathbed, where he could barely speak."

"And?"

"I made out one word." Robert's tone dropped, and so did his eyes. "Disappointed."

Jules bit her lip. "I'm sure thats not the case."

"Really?" Robert looked at her. "I tried everything, to get his approval Jules. And I mean, everything. At school-" he shuddered - "I tried out for the swim team, Athletics, and the Football team. It didn't get me anywhere." He fell silent, flinching at the uncomfortable memory of being pounced on by his more athletic classmates, of having his face shoved in the dirt at one practice. He could still remember the jeers of "hey, pretty boy!" and the brutal kicking he'd received. He'd kept silent, afraid of telling anyone. He'd hidden the bruises.

"But maybe he didn't want you to try and gain his approval," she argued. "Maybe he just wanted you to be yourself."

Robert looked at her, and shrugged. "I tried. And still failed." He swallowed. "And then-"

"Then what?" she pressed.

He swallowed. "I became a model. And then he despised me." He shrunk into his seat. "And, trust me, if he knew about all this, he'd despise me even more."

She swallowed. "Robert...I really don't think thats the case."

He looked at her. "You never met my father. You don't understand."

She sighed, and got up. "I'm going to go for a walk. When you stop being so stubborn, I'll talk to you again."

He fell silent, and his eyes watched her as she moved out of the room. He opened his mouth, and lapsed back into silence.

* * *

Arthur slipped his fingers through Ariadne's as they walked along the stream. She squeezed them gently. "Arthur..."

"Yes?"

"Why did you become a model?"

He looked at her. "You really want to know?"

She nodded. "Yes."

Hesitantly, he swallowed. "All right. I'll tell you." He turned and looked at her. "It was because-" he paused. "It was because I just didn't think I would ever be able to be what I wanted." He looked at the floor. "I didn't think I was talented enough."

"To be what?"

He paused. "A musician."

* * *

Jules walked out the front door, and shut it quietly. She hurried down the steps, not noticing the figure hanging around in a parked car, watching.

* * *

Robert got up, and walked into the kitchen. As he topped up his water glass, he suddenly became aware of a knocking on the front door.

Puzzled, he walked to it. "Did you forget your key?" he called out, feeling irritated. As he opened the door, his eyes widened. Summer lunged at him, locking her arms around his neck, and pulling him down into a kiss.

"Robert!" she cooed. "So good to see you!"

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	37. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules - she belongs to Celtic Lioness.**

"Summer," Robert protested, weakly. "Summer, I-"

"Be quiet," she ordered, and then proceeded to kiss him again, deeply. He swallowed, and she felt him weakening under her grasp. She pulled back, and nodded.

"That's right," she said, smiling. "That's just right." Leaning in, she kissed him again.

"Summer, the others will be-" his voice was cut off as she pulled him close. "I don't care about the others," she said, coldly. "Have you looked at what they're doing to you?"

He stiffened. "What?"

"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?"

Robert blinked, his face paling slightly. "I-no..."

Summer smiled, smugly. "Well, let's go upstairs and see, shall we?"

* * *

"You can still be a musician," Ariadne commented, as she and Arthur walked back together. "No harm in trying again."

Arthur looked at her, and smiled. "I could, but, I do think I should get my degree first. Or maybe change it completely." He looked thoughtful.

"What would you change it to?" she pressed.

"Well..." he paused, and looked at her. "I was thinking of maybe...psychology?"

"Psychology?" She paused, and turned to him. "Why?"

"Well, its Robert. He needs help, I'm trying to - well, we're all trying to- but this is making me think. I could qualify as a psychotherapist. Actually be in a position to offer help to someone like Rob."

She nodded. "Well, if its what you want..."

He looked at her. "I've lived in a dream too long. I need to wake up and help people in the real world."

* * *

"Come on," Summer cooed. "Just take your shirt off!"

"I -uh, don't want to," Robert said, hastily, pulling his arms across his chest for protection. "I really don't want to!"

"I'll tell you why you don't want to," she snapped, taking a step forward. "Its because you're too much of a whale to be seen shirtless!"

Robert looked down at himself. "Summer, I-"

"What have they done to you?" She exclaimed. "They're been letting you stuff yourself morning, noon and night! And we all know its because Arthur can't bear the fact of you looking better than him!"

Robert shook his head. "I'm sure that isn't the case, Summer, I'm beginning to think that Arthur is a genuine guy-"

"He's a fat has-been!" She snarled. "And that's how you're going to end up. Take off your shirt!"

* * *

"So what do you want to do now?" Ariadne asked shyly. They were back at the house. Arthur smiled and looped his arms around her neck.

"I was thinking iced tea," he said, finally. "And maybe sitting in the sun. How about it?"

She nodded. "Sounds good."

Arthur unlocked the door. "Jules?" he called out. As he received no response, he shrugged. "OK, no-one's in."

They entered, and headed for the kitchen. As they walked through the hallway, Arthur heard a muffled thump. He frowned slightly, and walked into the kitchen.

* * *

"Summer, please, you need to go." Robert's voice was anguished. "Please."

She shook her head. "No, I'm taking you with me. You can't stay here!"

* * *

Arthur expressed irritation as he heard raised voices. "Do you think they're arguing up there?" he whispered. Ariadne shrugged. "Maybe." A smile quirked at the corners of her mouth. "But, if Jules is getting though to him."

"No, I won't!" they heard Robert practically shriek. Arthur frowned. "I don't know." He put the knife he was using to slice a lemon down on the chopping board. "I think I'll go up there, see if they're ok."

"Arthur." He turned to her. Her voice was firm. "They're adults. Jules can handle him." She raised an eyebrow. "Trust me."

"Well, yes, but-"

She leaned in, and silenced him with a kiss. "Trust me."

* * *

"Robert, let me take your shirt!"

She lunged for him. He was standing defensively against the wall, his arms crossed over himself. "Give it to me, you fat boy!" She snapped.

"Leave me alone!" Robert yelled. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

* * *

Arthur slammed down the glass of iced tea he was holding. "That's it. I'm going up there." He shook his head. "I have no idea what's going on, but-"

He was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. "Hi, its me!" Jules called out. She entered the hallway. "Art? Ari?"

"Jules?" Arthur hurried out, his face contorting into an expression of puzzlement. "You...went out?"

"Yep." She nodded. "Robert was getting a little upset, so I thought I'd give him some time to cool off." She looked at him. "Why?"

"Because...if you're out," Arthur said, slowly, "who has he got upstairs?"

Suddenly, the realisation crashed over him. "Oh, God," he gasped, and turning, ran up the stairs. Jules and Ariadne followed him.

* * *

"Just take a look!" Summer was practically grappling with Robert, the slender man no match for her. "Just...look at all this fat you have-"

She stopped abruptly, silenced by the door crashing open. Arthur entered, followed by Jules.

"Summer!" Arthur's expression was livid. "I should have guessed! What the hell are you doing?"

Summer turned to him, her expression defiant. "Just seeing how fat he's got." She smirked. "You do realise that both you and he have no chance of being in London in a couple of weeks? That your careers are over?"

"Leave him alone." Arthur spoke, firmly. "And let go of him, let the man have some dignity!"

Jules walked in. "Allow me," she said, through gritted teeth. Before anyone could stop her, she'd taken hold of Summe's arm. "Let me show you out." With a swift tug, she began to pull the other woman through the door.

Arthur approached Robert. "Rob-"

The other man had sunk onto the bed. Arthur looked at him, horrified. Tears were streaming down his face. He sat down next to him, and put an arm round his shoulder. Ariadne, who had been behind them, sat on the other side, and looped her arm around his waist.

"Sssh," Arthur said, gently. "It'll be all right."

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	38. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me **

Arthur said nothing, and let the other man cry for a few minutes. Ariadne sat silently, letting her arm relax. Arthur nodded.

"Listen, I'm going to go downstairs, help Jules," she said, carefully. Getting up, she began to walk across the room, throwing Arthur a look. He smiled.

"We'll be down soon," he promised. He turned to Robert. "You ok?"

"Yes." He swallowed, and Arthur carefully handed him a tissue. He wiped his eyes, and smiled at him. "You must think I'm pathetic."

"No," Arthur said, shaking his head. "I think you're unhappy, Robert. Not pathetic."

Robert looked down at his lap. "You're the first person whose ever said that."

* * *

"Let go of me!" Summer practically snarled. Jules had her upper arm clamped in a vice like hold, and was practically marching her across to the front door. "You have no right!"

Jules stopped short, so the two women were facing each other. "And you have no right to come in here, and virtually assault Robert," she snapped. "Humiliate him like that!"

"Assault?" Summer's lips curved in a smile. "Trust me, I wouldn't touch that!" She looked at Jules scornfully. "He's so fat and bloated now! And as for Arthur - are you planning to make them explode through over-feeding?"

Jules looked at her, amazed. "You really are screwed up, aren't you?"

"No." Summer's tone was hostile. "Just honest. Honest about the fact that they're turning into a pair of whales! Still, as long as they have common little girls like you to keep them happy, maybe they'll be ok!"

Jules blinked, white with anger. Ariadne, who was walking down the stairs, was shaken by the venom in her voice.

"I think you need to leave," she said, coldly. "Now."

Summer smirked, again. "I'll be happy to."

Jules, her face twisted with anger, slammed the door behind her. "How dare she?" She raged. "Poor Rob! He needs-"

She broke off, aware that Ariadne was looking at her.

"Care," she said, hastily, before hurrying into the kitchen.

* * *

"Well, being unhappy wasn't acceptable for my father." Robert turned, and looked at Arthur. "A Fischer needs to be strong," he said, mimicking his father's voice. "A Fischer cannot be seen as weak."

"What made you want to go into modelling?" Arthur asked, curiously. He was beginning to realise how little he knew about Robert. "Was it for money?"

Fischer laughed, bitterly. "Arthur. I'm the heir to a billion dollar corporation. It wasn't for money."

"Then why?"

"To make my father notice me." He swallowed, and looked at him. "To make him realise I wasn't some docile little puppet, only going to follow in his shoes. I'd followed-" he paused, and exhaled slowly. "I'd followed the plan for as long as I could remember. Gone to prep school, gone to Yale. At least for the first year. Then, I got spotted by an agent."

"And you decided to start modelling?"

"Yes." Robert's voice sounded tired, defeated. "I started to model, and then Browning offered to manage me. And thats when it all started."

"The bulimia?" Arthur spoke softly.

Robert nodded. "Yes."

"What happened?"

"I was backstage, at a show. Pulling on a shirt. Browning came backstage, took one look at me, and shook his head. I asked what was wrong."

"Which was?"

"I was carrying too much weight." Robert looked at Arthur. "He told me, in front of everyone, that I should be ashamed of the huge roll of flab I was carrying. And that if I wanted to continue in this job, I needed to get rid of it."

"So you started vomiting," Arthur said, his mind whirring.

"I couldn't not eat, Arthur. I got hungry." Robert turned his face away. "I'd have black coffee and cigarettes in the morning, then by mid-afternoon, I'd need food. And he caught me eating a candy bar."

"And how did he react?"

Robert's chin quivered, and silently, Arthur handed him another tissue. "He screamed at me." Robert's sky blue eyes met Arthur's dark brown ones. "Screamed that I was just a fat, lazy slob."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "This is Browning, right?"

Robert nodded. "Yes."

"So what did you do?"

"I went to the bathroom, and-" he stopped, too ashamed to continue. "I made myself vomit. But then, the next day-"

"What?"

"I had to eat again. I couldn't stop. So, again, I had to vomit." Robert buried his face in his hands. "And then it was- usually before every show."

"And what about Summer?"

"We dated for a couple of months."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "That long?"

He nodded. "Yes. But, Arthur-"

"What?"

"I-" he stopped, as though forming the words. "I don't want anything more to do with her. She's-" he shuddered. "Vile."

"Not going to disagree," Arthur said, quietly.

"But...there is someone else I like," Robert said, softly. "But I don't know how to approach her. Or whether she'd want someone as messed up as me."

"Why don't you ask her?"

"Because-" Robert swallowed. "She's downstairs. And no, Arthur. She's not Ariadne."

**All reviews appreciated and read, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	39. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. Nor does Jules - thanks to Celtic Lioness!**

"Jules?" Ariadne asked, almost timidly. The redhead was flushed a deep, angry colour, as she opened a cupboard door, looking for a mixing bowl. "Are you ok?"

"I should have punched her," she muttered ferociously, opening the refrigerator and pulling out milk. "Should have punched her for that!"

"Calm down," Ariadne said, tactfully. "Do you want to talk?"

Jules froze slightly, her hands flat on the counter. Biting her lip, she turned to the petite brunette. "Well," she looked down at her hands. "What would you do if you were...attracted to someone, but not sure if it was the right time, or idea?"

"Do you mean Robert?"

Jules nodded. "Yes. But, Ari, why do I like him? He comes over as spoiled, arrogant, self-destructive-"

"-But you can see a good person beneath that?" Ariadne chipped in. "Someone who really wants to try and make their life better?"

Jules wiped her eyes with her hand. "Yes. I do."

* * *

"Talk to her," Arthur urged. "Please, Robert."

He shook his head. "I can't. She's not like other women I've dated."

"Why?" Arthur asked, his tone slightly pointed. "What makes Jules different?"

Robert sighed, and rubbed his face. "Well, she has a job. She has friends. And she doesn't live on cigarettes and cocaine. Does that answer your question?"

Arthur nodded. "I see." He looked at the other man. "Robert, listen to me. You're currently going through a difficult time. I'm pretty sure if you talked to Jules, she'd understand, be sympathetic to you."

He swallowed. "Maybe."

"Look." Arthur stood up. "Go and have a shower. Clear your head. I'll go down and talk-"

"No!" Robert looked at him, agitated. "No, Arthur, please! She mustn't know!"

"But if she doesn't know," Arthur said, slowly, "how do you hope to ever move on?"

Robert exhaled, slowly. "I'll think of something." Swallowing, he scooped up a towel and headed for the shower. Biting his lip, Arthur began to walk downstairs.

* * *

"Right." Jules spoke rehetorically, causing Ariadne to marvel at how calm she sounded. "Lasagne. Reckon it'll be ok for the boys?"

"Sounds good," Arthur commented, walking into the room. He smiled at Ariadne who walked over, and kissed him. "In fact, Jules, anything you make is good."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Arthur," She commented, smirking slightly. "Still, if you want to help, can you get me the cheese and milk?"

He nodded, and opened the refrigerator door, and began to search. "Of course."

"Where's Robert?" Ariadne asked. "Still upstairs?"

Arthur paused as his hands rummaged for the items in the fridge. "Showering." He found the milk and cheese, and pulled it out. "I think he needs to...relax."

Jules nodded. "He needs to ditch caffeine, cigarettes, and whatever else he's been pumping himself full of." She was deftly dicing peppers, the knife blade flashing as it caught the early evening light. "In fact-" she looked at the others - "I've drawn up a diet plan for him."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Sure that'll work?"

Jules nodded. "It will. If he goes along with it."

Arthur leaned back in his seat. "But this is what worries me. What if he doesn't agree to it?"

Jules leaned over, and began to stir the peppers into the meat and herb sauce she had bubbling on the stove. "If he doesn't, he could die. Its that simple."

"I agree, but-" Arthur decided to end his sentence. He slumped slightly at the counter. "We just have to tread carefully."

"Oh, I will, don't worry." Jules gently stirred the wonderful smelling mixture. "In fact, would you guys mind keeping an eye on this? I'll go and talk to him about it."

"Well, Jules, I think you ought to-" Arthur suddenly realised he was speaking to an empty space. He looked at Ariadne. "We should-"

"No," Ariadne interrupted. "Let her do it." Calmly, she walked over to the stove, and picked up the spoon.

* * *

Robert let the hot water spill over his shoulders, and reaching out, turned off the faucet. As he opened the panelled door, and reached for a towel, he turned his head and saw the mirror. Grimacing at his steam-fogged reflection, he wrapped the towel around his waist, and walked to the door.

As he opened the door of the en-suite, he became vaguely aware of a knocking sound. "What is it?" he said, irritably. "I'll come down when-"

Suddenly, the door opened, and Jules entered. Her eyes widened as she saw the semi-naked man, who immediately began to clutch the towel tighter round himself. "Heard of privacy?" he said, tightly.

She swallowed, and began to take a step backwards. "I'm making dinner downstairs, if you want to join us." She turned, heading towards the door. "No pressure."

"I'll be down soon," he muttered, and walked towards the closet. She nodded, and her mind reeling at what she'd just seen, hurried out of the room.

* * *

"Mmm," Arthur breathed. He and Ariadne had stolen a kiss at the stove, with half an eye being kept on the food. "So good."

She looked at him. "New York. I can't wait."

"Neither can I." He reached out, and held her hands. "Listen, whatever happens, meeting you is the best thing that ever happened to me."

She blushed. "Arthur, I-"

"No, I mean it." He looked at her. "I've never met anyone who-" he broke off as Jules returned, her face pale. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing, don't worry." Her lips tight, she walked to the stove.

* * *

****Robert walked over to the mirror in the bedroom, his heart pounding. Swallowing, he looked at his reflection, and felt his face quiver.

"You're so ugly," he whispered. "She'll never want you!" Sitting back down on the bed, he choked back a sob, using the towel to absorb his tears.

**All reviews appreciated and read, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	40. Chapter 40

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

"Right," Jules said, authoratively. "I think the lasagne's done. Art, would you mind getting the salad ready, and Ari, would you pour the water?"

Arthur nodded, and reached for a large glass bowl. Ariadne proceeded to retrieve a bottle of mineral water from the fridge, and filled four glasses with it. She placed them at the four corners of the elegant kitchen table.

"Perfect," Jules said, smiling. Leaning down, she deftly retrieved the bubbling lasagne from the oven. "Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"This is pasta." She looked at him, he could see her biting his lip. "Is that ok?"

Arthur grinned. "Hey, I love pasta. I just could never eat it before I went on the runway." He shrugged. "Shall I get Robert?"

Jules swallowed. "Yes, please." Nodding, he turned and began to leave the room. Ariadne looked at her best friend, her brow creasing in concern.

"Jules, are you all right?"

"Of course," the red head said, briskly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, its just-" Ariadne paused, biting her lip. "You went upstairs, and-"

"I saw Robert." Jules' voice was quiet. "I saw him. Shirtless." She turned and looked at her best friend. "Ari, he's so thin. I don't think I can help him. I think he needs to be in a clinic."

"But, Jules, he won't agree to that." Ariadne dropped her own voice. "He just won't."

"You didn't see him." Jules shuddered inwardly. The memory of the man's chest, with its jutting ribs and pale, sunken skin was carved into her mind's eye. "I did."

"Jules." Ariadne looked at her, squarely. "I think Robert's spent most of his life feeling abandoned, that no-one really cares. He has to stay here!"

Jules swallowed, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter. "I know."

"We have to keep trying," Ariadne persisted.

"OK." Jules nodded. She turned to the other young woman, and Ariadne noticed tears were beginning to form in Jules' eyes. "Its just - I want to hurt the person who did this to him, ok? Made him think that this was acceptable."

Ariadne swallowed. "I know. I just don't understand how Robert is like this, and Arthur isn't."

Jules raised an eyebrow. "Probably something to do with Arthur being raised by normal people, rather than a billionaire tycoon and a string of nannies." She picked up a knife, and began to cut round the lasagne.

* * *

"Robert?" Arthur knocked on the door. "Robert, are you in there?"

"Go away," came a muffled response. "Please."

"Robert. Not going to happen." Arthur's tone was gentle, but firm. "You're coming downstairs. Jules has cooked. Please."

"Jules?" Arthur heard what sounded like a hollow laugh. "I'm sure she's dying to see me."

Arthur frowned. "Robert. Let me in."

"No."

The younger man bit his lip.. Robert's tendency to behave like a spoiled brat was beginning to assert itself. He decided to change tack.

"OK, I'm going downstairs. Come down when you feel ready." He turned, and began to walk away from the door.

* * *

Jules looked up as Arthur walked into the kitchen. "Is he ok?"

"He's refusing to come downstairs." Arthur sighed. "And he's behaving like a brat."

Jules shrugged. "Leave him there. Come on."

Arthur settled into his seat, and smiled appreciatively as Jules spooned lasagne onto his plate, and set it before him. "Thank you." He inhaled, the aroma wonderful.

Jules shook out her napkin, and Ariadne took a sip of water. A few minutes' companiable silence ensured. Finally, Arthur broke it. "This is fantastic. Thank you, Jules."

"I didn't think models ate pasta," she teased. "Well, I'm not a model anymore," Arthur said, thrusting a forkful into his mouth. "Which reminds me, there's something that you should know."

Jules looked up, as Arthur and Ariadne entwined fingers on the table. "What is it?"

"I'm going back to New York," Ariadne said quickly, "with Arthur."

Jules blinked. "Seriously?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Well, I-" the red head was momentarily stunned into silence. "Well, thats wonderful!" She said, a grin beginning to spread across her face. "That is so wonderful!"

"Thank you," Arthur said, smiling. "Thank you Jules."

"Well," Jules said, "I should have made tiramisu!"

"What for?"

The three of them turned. Robert was standing in the doorway. He was clad in a baggy black t-shirt, and jeans. He looked drawn, and pale. Arthur looked at him, and frowned.

"No reason," he said quickly.

"Well, I'm sure there's a good one." He swallowed and approached the table. "May I?"

Arthur nodded. "Of course. We saved you a portion."

Robert looked at him, impassively. "I wondered."

Jules looked at the table, then got up. "I'll get you a plate." As she put the china in front of Robert, his eyes flicked up, and met hers. "Thank you."

She nodded. "You're welcome." Picking up the serving spoon, she placed a portion of lasagne on his plate. He nodded. "Thank you."

A silence descended. Arthur noticed that Robert was actually cutting the lasagne, and putting it in his mouth. He turned back to his own food.

The atmosphere became funereal. No-one spoke. Jules kept her eyes on her own plate, and Ariadne did the same. Finally, after another twenty minutes, Jules spoke.

"Does anyone want any more?"

"Why?" Robert looked at her, his expression mocking. "Trying to fatten everyone up, are you?"

A sudden hush descended over the table. The hostility in his voice was evident. Jules turned to him, their eyes meeting.

"No," she said, calmly. "I'm just asking if anyone wants anymore."

"Well, since you ask-" he held his plate up - "I'm not done. So count me out."

She looked at him. "Well, I guess you can finish it."

He smirked at her. "You can always help with that."

Arthur looked at Robert. "What's going on?" he asked, sharply.

"Nothing." Robert was looking at Jules. "But when someone sees me shirtless, and looks completely disgusted, I have to wonder why they're bothering to try and help me."

Ariadne sucked her breath in, and Arthur fell silent. Jules looked at Robert. "It was an accident," she said, calmly. "And I'm not disgusted. I'm shocked. Shocked you're in such a poor physical state, and shocked that someone told you it was acceptable."

"Really?" Robert's face was beginning to twitch. "Shocked that I'm so fat and flabby, Jules?"

"ROBERT!" Jules exploded, her voice rising in tone. "There is NOTHING of you! You're so thin I'm amazed you can even stand up!"

"Really?" Robert snarled. "You saw me! I saw your face, I saw-"

"You don't see ANYTHING!" She shouted at him. "You only see what you want, what you've been told to see! Trust me, Robert, there is nothing there!"

"Robert-" Arthur looked at him. "She's telling you the truth. I've seen you backstage, remember?"

Robert's face was beginning to flush. "So, I-"

"Listen," Jules said, wearily. "You need to eat. And I made it, and paid for the ingredients. You are not wasting my paycheck!"

Robert looked at her. "Jules, I-"

"Ariadne," Arthur said quietly. "Are you finished?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Good. Let's go for a walk."

She nodded her consent, and the two of them got up. Robert looked at Jules. "I'm-"

"Don't say you're sorry," she warned. "Please. Just eat what's in front of you. You might find you even enjoy it."

He swallowed, his breathing shaky. "I'll try."

* * *

Arthur and Ariadne hurried out the front door. "Just a quick stroll," Arthur promised.

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think they-" she looked back, and then at him. He nodded.

"I hope so," he said fervently. "I really hope so."

* * *

"How was it?"

Robert swallowed, and placed his fork on the plate. "Really...good." He looked at her. "I'm sorry. I could only manage half."

She shrugged. "Better than nothing." She got up, and to her shock, he grasped her hand.

"What is it?"

"Jules, upstairs, the way you looked at me-" he swallowed. "You're the first woman whose never looked at me, never looked at me and criticised."

"Why would I?" she asked softly.

He took a deep breath. "Jules, the way you're helping me- thank you. But I think I-"

"What?" she asked guardedly.

"I think I'm...falling in love with you."

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	41. Chapter 41

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules - she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

"You...what?" Jules looked stunned, and grabbed the corner of the counter. "What did you just say?"

"I think I love you," Robert replied, stubbornly. "I love you, Jules."

She shook her head. "No, Robert - I think you love the idea of me." Her heart was beginning to pound, and she pressed her lips together. "Seriously."

He took a step back, his face paling. "Oh. I see." He sank down into the chair, and stared at his plate.

Jules bit her lip. His expression was inscrutable. Carefully, she moved towards the sink, and began to wash the plates.

"Why don't you love me?"

She nearly jumped, and the plate almost slid from her fingers. The words were delivered in an angry tone, and, she realised with a sinking heart, these were the words of a man who believed that he must be answered.

"I don't know you," she replied, calmly, turning to face him. "I don't normally fall for men straight away."

Robert raised an eyebrow. "I see."

"But-" she paused.

"But what?"

"It doesn't mean it could never happen."

Robert narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe this." His voice sounded brittle. "I can't believe that you're rejecting me."

She looked at him. "I'm not rejecting you." She stacked the plates into the drying rack, and sat down opposite him. "I just don't think you're ready for this. I want to help you."

"No." Robert looked at her, his face contorting into a scowl. "I know what you're trying to do. You're helping me to boost your own ego. You're doing this because it makes you feel like a good person, not because you care about me."

She shook her head. "Robert, that's not the case."

"But still," he snapped. "Why should I care? You're nothing special. You don't compare to the women I've met. You don't compare to the women I date." He got up, his face curling into a sneer. "Why am I even lowering myself talking to a tattoed punk like-"

He stopped, abruptly, as Jules slapped him, hard. Gasping, he looked at her. "You-" he spluttered.

"Sit down!" Jules barked. "Now!"

He swallowed. "No, I think I'm-"

"Robert." Jules folded her arms. "If you try and get out of that door, I will stop you. Sit down."

He began to sit. "You hit me." He sounded like a petulant little boy. Jules fought to suppress a smile.

"Yes." She spoke calmly. "You needed it. You need to accept that you're not well, you're here to recover. Now. Eat."

Robert looked at the food still sitting on the table, and reluctantly, eventually, picked up his fork. "I don't believe this," he said, a chuckle almost detectable in his voice.

"Believe what?" Jules asked, guardedly.

"You're the first woman I've ever met who hasn't gone weak at the knees over me." He stuck his fork into the lasagne, and began to cut into it.

She smirked. "Let me guess. You're used to models crowding round, wanting you to take them to the premiere; make up artists cooing over your gorgeous skin; and dressers sighing over how thin you are and how they wish their ass was as small, right?"

He blushed. "Well, I-"

"Robert. They only want to use you." She poured herself a glass of water and grabbed an apple. "Be seen with you. That's it."

He chewed and swallowed. "Well, I..." he paused. "I did think about getting married once." He looked at her. "Having children."

She blinked, and the apple stayed frozen in mid-air, unbitten. "Married to whom?"

"Summer." He winced.

Jules looked at him, shocked. "Robert. There is no way she would agree to having children. 'Its not a baby bump, its fat!'" She said, mimicking Summer's voice.

He began to laugh, and hurriedly turned it into a cough. "Excuse me," he said, quickly.

"Seriously, it would be a nightmare." Jules bit into the apple. "I can just imagine the wedding reception. She'd be standing there, glaring at anyone who dared to try and eat cake."

He swallowed a mouthful of lasagne. "Well. I'll never know."

"Keep going," she urged him, taking a sip of water.

He looked at her, and scowled. "I will do. And before you ask, I'm not going to try and throw it up."

"Good." She nodded.

"And anyone who does date me-" he looked at her - "has to handle the paparazzi."

"I can handle that." She spoke quietly. "But I also need to handle you. Don't get me wrong," she said, hastily, "Part of me thinks you're a spoiled, rich, pretty boy ."

There was a ghost of a smile on Robert's face. "And the other?"

"The other part of me thinks you've been used, and abused." She put her apple core on the table. "Robert," she said, quietly. "When you looked in the mirror earlier, what did you see?"

He swallowed. "Someone fat, bloated, and ugly." He looked at her, and his eyes hardened slightly. "And you keep telling me I'm too thin. I keep wondering when I'm going to wake up and find that you and Arthur have tied me to the bed, ready to force feed me!"

She shook her head. "Stop it. That's crazy." She reached out, and gently placed her hand on his, causing him to blink. "I'm not going to do that. And trust me, you're not fat. I will keep saying that. I'm a chef. I've seen people who could do with losing a few pounds. You don't."

"Jules," he whispered.

"Yes?"

"If I-" he paused - "when I recover from this, do you think here might be a future for us?"

She paused, and kept her hand on his.

"I think so," she said, softly.

**All reviews appreciated and read, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	42. Chapter 42

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to Celtic Lioness.**

"Oh, that was great."

Arthur smiled as he and Ariadne walked back to the townhouse. Their fingers were intertwined in each others' and she took pleasure in the warmth and gentle pressure of his hand. He squeezed it gently as they continued to walk.

"I wonder how they're getting on," Arthur mused aloud. He looked at Ariadne. "I sometimes wonder if-" he stopped, hesitant at making the next comment.

"What is it?"

"Well, Robert's pretty needy at the moment." Arthur winced - the criticism of the other men felt unfair. "He's a bit lost. I wonder if he's-"

"Entertaining feelings for Jules?" Ariadne spoke quietly. Looking at her, Arthur nodded, relieved she'd picked up on the unspoken message. "Well, don't worry. She won't let him pressure her into anything."

Arthur's face relaxed into a smile. "I was hopeful that was the answer. But why did I expect anything less? She's your best friend."

Ariadne leaned over, and kissed him. "Absolutely."

* * *

"You think...there's a future for us?"

Jules blinked. Robert looked so hopeful, like a small child who was on the verge of opening a much-longed for toy on his birthday. She bit her lip. If she was negative, or gave the slightest indication of not believing in a future with him, she knew it would slowly start to undo him. She swallowed.

"Robert. I think there can be. But you have to get well." She looked at him. "Besides, this is a little awkward. I didn't expect to come and help someone, only to find that I-"

His shoulders were beginning to sag. "You what?"

"Might have feelings for them." She began to sink down at the kitchen table. "Its just - you're not the type of guy I'd usually go for. And I do wonder if-"

"You feel sorry for me," he cut in, sitting down himself. "Sorry for me. Pity can be confused."

"I don't feel sorry for you. I think you're in a sorry state." She shook her head. "But..." she paused. "If you have feelings for me, there is one question I'd like to ask."

He shrugged. "Go ahead."

"Have you had a serious relationship before?"

"No." He looked at her. "Not with anyone I really cared about."

She blinked. "Really?"

"Well, its part of the lifestyle." He blushed slightly. "Easy sex. Trust me, there was never a shortage."

Jules narrowed her eyes. "Robert. I will not be another notch on your bedpost."

He smiled slightly. "I'm too tired to even think about that at the moment. I don't have any energy."

Jules got up. "Exactly. You need to eat."

Suddenly, there was the sound of a key scraping the lock. She got up, hastily. "Hi!" she heard Ariadne's voice echo through the hallway. "You guys in?"

"In here!" Jules responded. Robert shot her a pleading look she recognised. _Please don't tell the others._

Arthur walked in, and noticed that Robert was sitting, slightly slumped in his seat. "You OK?" he asked, concern in his voice. Robert sat up, smiled and nodded.

"Oh, I'm fine. So..." he swallowed, in a voice that sounded deceptively calm, "where did you two go?"

"Oh, just for a walk along the streets. Found a little patisserie." Arthur chuckled. "Ariadne nagged me into having a vanilla slice!"

"I did not!" her voice rose, indignantly, from the lounge. "You were more than happy to have one!"

Arthur nodded. "True." He walked to the sink, and turned on the faucet, running his hands underneath it. His mind began to wander back to the wonderful hour he'd just had.

* * *

"So shall we go in here?" Ariadne asked. They'd stopped outside a small cafe. Late in the afternoon, Arthur thought the scene before him was charming, and typically Parisienne - people sitting outside, enjoying the sunshine, smoking, talking. Drinking wine. Eating pastries.

Arthur swallowed. "Let's go in here," he said, smiling. As they entered, they were greeted by a young waitress. "May I help you?" she asked, politely.

"Table for two, please," Arthur said, in fluent French. As she ushered them towards a secluded corner, he smiled at Ariadne.

"What is it?" she laughed.

"Deja Vu," he replied. As they settled into their seats, he quickly explained his comment. "I remember we sat in a cafe when we first met. When I was trying to conceal what I was." He blushed.

She nodded. "I remember." She fiddled with the napkin in front of her. "After I found that copy of GQ with your face on it, I did wonder when you would tell me."

He shrugged. "Trust me, I'm embarrassed." He paused as the waitress approached. "Ariadne?"

"Oh, a latte for me," she said, quickly. "And..."she paused - "a cream horn."

Arthur swallowed. "A cappuccino. And vanilla slice."

The waitress nodded. "Of course."

Ariadne leaned back in her seat. "Arthur." She was grinning. "I'm impressed."

He looked at her. "Well, no-one's going to be looking at my body anymore - besides you," he added, quickly. He saw her blush, and then hastened to smooth over his words. "I mean, I-"

She reached over, and took his hand. "Arthur, it's ok." She looked at her plate. "Its just - I don't want to rush things."

He squeezed her fingers reassuringly. "We won't be." He shook his head. "I'm not like that, I promise you."

She smiled. "Well, I-" she looked at him. "Thank you."

Their orders arrived. "Great, thank you," Arthur told the waitress, who nodded appreciatively. He picked up his fork. "Oh, you have no idea how many of these I've never eaten," he sighed, dramatically.

She raised her eyebrows. "No, trust me," Arthur said, grinning. "This is a brave new world!"

* * *

"Arthur?"

He blinked. Robert was looking at him, curiously. "You ok?"

"Fine," Arthur replied. "Never better." He looked at the slightly older man, and an idea he'd entertained earlier was crystallising in his mind. "Ariadne!" he called.

She hurried into the kitchen. "Yes?"

"How would you all feel-" Arthur paused - "if we all went out for dinner tomorrow night?"

Robert blinked. "What?"

"Well, I think we all should." Arthur looked at him. "Plus, Ariadne and I have something to celebrate, and we'd love it if you could join us."

Robert's face twitched. "I- uh-"

Jules walked up behind him, and sat down. Carefully, she gently entwined her fingers in his.

"It'll be ok," she whispered.

Noting the gesture, Arthur smiled.

"It will. Trust me."

Robert nodded. "OK. Let's do it."

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	43. Chapter 43

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

"Are you ready?" Ariadne called. She gently knocked on Jules' door.

The door creaked open, and Jules peeked out. "Ari. Help me," she practically hissed.

Ariadne frowned, and moved into the room. "What's wrong?"

"This dress." Jules looked almost upset. "I don't want to look like a nun, but I don't want to look like a-" she paused, and swallowed. "Well, I don't want Rob to get the wrong idea."

Ariadne surveyed the dress. Whilst it looked relatively simple from the front, as she moved to the back, she gasped. Black lace shrouded Jules' toned back, turning the dress from simple, to elegant.

"It looks wonderful," she said, sincerely, as she moved back to the front. "Really. You look gorgeous."

Jules bit her lip. "Well, its just Robert and I-" she paused, and blushed. "We had a conversation this afternoon, and-"

Suddenly, they heard another door open. "Ariadne?"

"Arthur," she muttered, and began to head for the door. As she began to leave, she turned and smiled at Jules. "You look wonderful. Stop worrying!"

Jules nodded, as Ariadne disappeared. She shrugged her shoulders, and began to head out the door. As she reached Robert's room, she noticed that the other couple had walked down the stairs, to the lower hallway.

She gently tapped on the door. "Robert?"

"Yes?"

"Can I come in?"

"If you want to."

Jules opened the door, and walked in. She blinked. Robert was standing in the room, clad in a suit. She swallowed.

"Are you allright?" he asked, noting the way her face had changed expression.

"I'm...fine," she said, slowly. All she'd seen Robert in previously were t-shirts and jeans, which did not fit him. Now, in a suit, it didn't fit perfectly, but she could see clearly the good looks and charisma that had made him a runway star.

His face twisted. "If this looks awful, I can change-" he stopped. "Would you turn around?"

She did. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he said, quietly. "Except you look wonderful. Very elegant."

She felt a smile crawl across her face. "Well. Shall we go?"

He offered her his arm. "Certainly."

* * *

Ariadne adjusted Arthur's tie. "You look wonderful," she said, brushing a fleck off his jacket. He smiled. "Well, I, uh-"

"Well what?" she asked, looking slightly concerned. "What is it?"

"This suit...its a little tighter on me than the last time I wore it," he confided. "I blame the croissants."

She smiled at him. "But you're not freaking out about it?"

"No," Arthur replied, honestly. "I think-" he looked up the stairs. "Well."

"She looks amazing," Ariadne commented. Arthur raised an eyebrow. "But not as amazing as you."

Ariadne blinked. "Why, thank you." Her fitted black dress showed off her petite figure perfectly. She bent down and adjusted the strap of her shoe. "I think we can go."

Arthur nodded. "We should. I booked the table for eight, and its now after seven." Taking her arm, he began to lead her out of the house, followed by the hurried footsteps of Robert and Jules.

* * *

Ariadne walked into the restaurant with her hand firmly tucked around Arthur's arm. As they entered, she noticed that heads were starting to turn and look in their direction.

She felt Arthur squeeze her arm reassuringly. "Ignore it," he whispered. The maitre d' ushered them to their table. "Please, all take a seat," he said, courteously.

Robert and Jules quickly settled. Arthur noticed Robert's eyes scanning the room. "What is it?" he asked, curiously.

"Just wondering if anyone we - I know is here," he mumbled, hastily looking at the menu. Arthur frowned slightly.

"Robert, stop it. Even if they are, we're entitled to go out for dinner."

"Yes, but-" Robert shifted uncomfortably. Suddenly, a waiter appeared. Arthur blinked.

"Ready to order?" he asked in fluent French. Arthur swallowed. "Can you give us all a few more minutes, please?"

The waiter nodded. "Very good."

"Well," Jules said, breaking the silence. "I think I'll order the melon. And salmon. Ari?"

"Oh, melon and tuna for me," she said, quickly.

Arthur smiled. "Oh, may as well go for the melon. And-" he scrutinised the menu - "the steak. Robert?"

"Pate," Robert said, decisively. "And venison."

The others at the table blinked. Arthur turned to him. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." Robert looked at him. "The last time I went for a meal in a restaurant, I had a green salad whilst Browning ate steak. I think I'm entitled to something else."

Arthur bit his lip. "Just don't-"

"Don't what?" A slight tautness had entered Robert's voice.

"Make yourself ill." The words had left Arthur's mouth before he could stop them, and he regretted it. Robert's normally pale complexion was starting to redden.

"Arthur." Robert looked at him. "I'm not going to make myself throw up, I promise." He looked at the menu. "I need to learn how to eat properly."

Arthur nodded. "OK. Point taken." Ariadne reached out, and patted his hand. He smiled, and wrapped his fingers round it.

The waiter returned, and the group placed their orders. After a few moments, Jules spoke.

"This place is pretty..." she raised her eyebrows. "Expensive."

"Don't worry," Robert commented. "It'll come out of the loose change."

Arthur smiled. This side to Robert was one he'd never seen before. He picked up his water glass, and took a sip.

"Arthur! Robert!"

Arthur blinked, and groaned inwardly. Jared was heading towards them. The other man looked suspiciously bright eyed, leading Arthur to suspect cocaine use had already occurred that evening.

"Good to see you both!" He said, heartily. "Well, Arthur, I think you can forget about going on that runway anytime soon, you look as though you'll go through it!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Yes, but at least I turn to the side and don't disappear now."

His blunt sarcasm had no impact on Jared, who merely looked at Robert, and smiled malicously. "Good to see you in a restaurant. Planning on visiting the bathroom straight afterwards?"

Robert smiled at him. "No."

Jared blinked. "No? Planning on being a fatass, are you Robbie? I'm sure Browning will be delighted, he told me once he had to constantly stop you stuffing your face!"

Robert glared at him. "I decided I like having teeth. And a throat that doesn't hurt. And a girlfriend who actually likes me."

Jared looked at him, and smiled again. "I'm sure you do. But that can change. Anyway, I'm here with some chick I picked up. See you later!"

He walked off. Ariadne turned to Arthur, concern on her face. Robert bit his lip, his face paling.

"Arthur," Ariadne hissed. "What did he mean?"

Arthur shook his head. "Nothing good."

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


	44. Chapter 44

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

"Excuse me," Robert muttered. Standing up, he pushed his chair out, and hurried away. Jules looked after him, biting her lip. "Rob-"

"No, its ok, let me." Arthur got up, and rested his hand on Jules' reassuringly. He followed Robert to the men's room. As he entered, he saw the other man standing by the sinks.

"Robert," he said, calmly. "Come back to the table."

Robert was biting his lip, the sudden pinkness contrasting sharply with his porcelain skin. "Arthur, I can't do this!" He burst out. "You heard what Jared said!"

Arthur shook his head. "Robert. Jared is convinced that the best way for us to both look is if we're decomposing corpses. You know, you can see bones through our skin?" His anger at the photographer was flaring. "I've put on a little weight - but its fine. I can sleep on my front now without feeling my ribs in the mattress!" He shrugged. "Plus, Ariadne prefers me this way. I can tell."

"How?" Robert demanded.

"By the way she's always trying to grab me, and hold me," Arthur said, calmly. "She likes to hold me, trust me. And its good she feels that I'm not going to snap in half."

Robert swallowed. "Look, I know what Jules thinks of me at the moment."

"What?" Arthur was slightly confused. "What do you mean?"

"I heard her. Talking to Ariadne." Robert's shoulders were sagging slightly. "About how I'm a stick insect."

"Robert," Arthur said gently. "You are very thin. You're thinner than I was!"

"Yeah, well-"

"Remember," Arthur said, his tone kind. "You have a business to go back to. Come on. It will be fine."

Nodding, Robert began to leave. Arthur patted him on the shoulder, and they returned to the table. As they arrived, they noticed that the appetisers had arrived.

Robert sat down, and smiled at Jules. "I'm sorry."

"No, its ok," she replied, picking up her fork, and starting to cut into the melon. "Really."

He nodded. "Thank you." Swallowing, he picked up a knife, and began to cut into the pate. Although the other at the table were engrossed in their melon, Arthur did lift his eyes, noticing how Jules was sneaking glances at Robert.

He carefully spread the pate on the toast, eschewing the butter. Then, carefully, precisely, he began to cut the toast into small pieces. After another couple of minutes, he lifted a quarter of the toast.

Arthur swallowed as he bit into it, and began to chew. Suddenly, he felt a slight kick to his ankle. "Stop looking!" Ariadne hissed. Blushing, Arthur turned back to his own food.

"So," Jules commented, trying to ignore the look on Robert's face as he became re-acquainted with flavours and textures, "anyone want to go to an art gallery or something?"

Arthur nodded. "Sounds great."

"There's an exhibition on," Ariadne said, looking animated as they all finished. "The impressionists."

"Oh!" Robert exclaimed. "Oh, that's great! I really like Monet. He painted "Lilacs and Roses," right?"

Ariadne looked slightly embarrassed. "Um, that's Manet," she said gently, then began to colour as she saw Robert's face drop.

"No, its fine," Robert said, forcing his lips into a smile. "I'm just ignorant. Its what happens when you're pulled out of school at 16 to model."

An uncomfortable silence began to descend. Ariadne swallowed as the waiter appeared, nervously, to collect their plates. Robert took a sip of water.

"Robert, I didn't mean-" she began, but her voice trailed off. He shook his head. "Forget it, really."

As the table cleared, silence fell. Ariadne started to push her chair back.

"Ari," Robert spoke suddenly. "Ari, please. I'm sorry. Its a case of-"

"Robert?"

Arthur blinked, and his heart began to sank. Peter Browning had approached them. Suddenly, he realised - the type of restaurant Robert was used to would be an expensive establishment populated by people he would have work connections with. Robert swallowed. "Peter."

"I didn't recognise you! You're looking so well!" Browning surveyed the younger man. "In fact, both you and Arthur are almost looking-" he paused - "plump!"

Arthur nearly choked. "Your definition of plump is a little strange," he told Browning, curtly. "And sorry, but I don't think you'd exactly slip through the cracks in a pavement!"

Browning arched an eyebrow. "Well, Arthur, the last time I saw him he was so thin he could barely stand up, lying in a hospital bed. Now he looks as though he's been force fed." He glared at Robert. "I knew that if you got off that diet you'd balloon!" He looked at Arthur. "And, well, I knew you would just expand when I saw you a couple of weeks ago!"

"Balloon into what?" Jules retorted, coldly. "A normal size and shape?" She glanced at Robert. "He's barely gained three lbs!"

"Well, I see your taste in women hasn't improved." Browning looked at Robert. "Who is this? Some trashy tattooed punk you picked up in a toilet?"

Robert got to his feet, his eyes starting to blaze. "Just go," he growled.

Peter smiled. "Listen Robert," he said, coldly, "before you start to waddle over and make threats, I'd think about this. What are you going to do now?"

"Be healthy," Robert said, stubbornly. "Lead a happier life."

"Well, good luck." Browning smiled. "But I will be in touch. You're still under contract to me, remember? So I wouldn't eat too much..." his eyes flickered to the plates the waiter was hovering with. "You have a show in a couple of weeks, and I know the designers don't want to let the clothes out!"

Browning turned and left. Jules turned to Robert. "Don't listen to him. Please."

Robert shook his head. "Sorry." Looking defeated, he turned and began to leave the restaurant.

**reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	45. Chapter 45

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

"Robert!" Jules got to her feet, and whilst mindful of other diners, began to hurry after him. "Robert, wait, please!"

The older man didn't turn round. He kept walking, his shoulders slumped and expression downcast. As the door of the elegant restaurant swung closed behind him, leaving a shocked maitre d' in his wake, Jules pushed the door back open, and hurried after him.

* * *

Arthur and Ariadne both sat frozen after Browning's interruption to the evening, and Robert's hasty exit. Biting her lip, Ariadne moved her hand over, and covered his. He smiled at the reassuring warmth of her touch.

"Are you ok?" She asked, hesitantly.

Arthur looked at her. "I will be." He swallowed, trying to control his breathing. "What he said...Jesus. I think he's-" his voice trailed off, unwilling to form the remainder of the sentence.

"Its ok," she said, calmly. "Jules will find him, I know she will." She looked at her plate. "Shall we go home?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes." Pulling out his wallet, he left the cost of the meal in cash on his side plate. Ignoring the astonished looks of the maitre d', he got up, and waited for Ariadne. Linking arms, they began to leave.

"I'll call Jules," Ariadne commented. "Tell her to come back to the house." She looked at Arthur. "But first-"

"First what?"

"Let's go home and change. Then cook."

Arthur smiled. "Sounds good."

* * *

Jules practically ran after Robert - she didn't care she was ruining a pair of expensive heels. She reached out, and grabbed his shoulder as he hailed a cab.

"What are you doing?" She almost hissed. "How could you-"

"What are you doing?" Robert snapped, his eyes furious. "I left the restaurant, meaning I just want to be alone, ok? Now, can you respect that and show me the courtesy?"

She looked at him. "Robert...please. You know better-"

"And you know nothing!" He almost snarled, his features contorting with rage. "You know nothing! Just leave me alone!" A cab drew up, and he opened the door, jumped in, and slammed it shut.

Jules stood looking after him, speechless. She ignored the fact that other people were looking at her, some gawking, due to the fact her evening dress was rumpled, and her hair had come loose from its clip. She also became aware that she was standing awkwardly, and to her vexation, saw that one of the heels on her shoes had almost snapped off.

She bit her lip. Feeling a wave of sadness was over her, she clutched her purse more tightly. Then, she had a thought. Robert's cab was only just in traffic. Raising her arm, she hailed the next one.

* * *

Arthur sighed tiredly as he and Ariadne re-entered the Cobb's house. He looked at her, still clad in her evening dress. He looked down at himself. "I should..."

"Look, go and change," she whispered, leaning up and kissing him. "And I will too." Nodding, he turned, and they both began to walk back up the stairs.

As he entered his room, Arthur began to tug disconsolately at his suit. As he stripped off the jacket and then loosened his tie, he began to peruse himself in the mirror.

_Plump, _Browning had snidely called him. He began to examine himself, then stopped.

"Remember Robert," he muttered. "You know where that led him." The sudden thought of the older man made him wince. Turning away from the mirror, he slipped on a plain t-shirt and jeans. Swallowing, he began to open the door and walk down the stairs.

As he entered the kitchen, he smiled. Ariadne was chopping peppers. "Hey," she said, shyly.

"Hey." He entered the kitchen, almost frowning. "I was supposed to take you out for dinner...so let me chop those." He began to manouvre himself behind the butcher's block. Silently, she handed over the knife, and he began to chop with deft strokes. "But," he asked, pausing, "what are we making?"

She help up four eggs. "Omelette?"

"Wonderful."

A silence fell, as Ariadne cracked and whisked the eggs, and Arthur trimmed the peppers. She looked at him. "Arthur, are you sure you're ok?"

"Well, I-" he paused, and looked at her. "I guess its what Browning said." He shrugged. "He's right. I'm not exactly thin anymore."

Ariadne paused. "Arthur," she said, sternly, "what he means is that you can no longer count your ribs! You stood up to him in the restaurant, why are you worrying now?"

"Its just hard," Arthur admitted. "When I'm with you, or Eames, I know that you don't judge me for my appearance. But the world I was in did, and I suppose it brought it home to me that I don't fit in with them now." He looked at his hands. "I mean, I buttoned up my suit this evening, and realised that it fits - it used to be a little loose!"

"Arthur," Ariadne said, looking at him. "It doesn't matter to me what you look like." She blushed. "To me, you're perfect."

He blinked. "Really?" he practically whispered.

"Yes." She looked at him. "Arthur, when I realised who you were, I could not believe that you'd be interested in me." She spoke softly, but her words hit him hard. "I thought you'd only be interested in models."

Arthur shook his head. "No. Absolutely not." He looked at her. "You have met Summer, right?" he shuddered.

"Oh yes."

"No, trust me. Ari." He turned to her. "To me, you're the most beautiful girl in the world."

* * *

Robert tossed the driver cash, and got out of the cab. As he looked, he noticed a bar that he'd inhabited previously. Curtly nodding at the doorman, he pushed the door open, and entered.

Jared was sitting at the bar, a scotch at his elbow. He turned as Robert approached him.

"Well, hello," he said, curtly. "Did they have to open both doors for you to squeeze through?"

Robert's face flamed. "Jared, I-"

"Oh, don't mention it," the photographer sneered. "But, face it, you are looking-what was the word Peter used?- plump."

Robert looked down at himself. "I-"

"What happened to you?" Jared looked at him, his pale eyes illuminating with intensity. "Did you allow Arthur to shove a feeding tube into you? We all know he's finished, washed up, but of course he had to do it to you."

"No he didn't-"

"Well, in the hospital you looked perfect for this job. Now-" Jared shrugged. "You just look fat."

Robert looked at him. "I can fix it."

"Sure."

"No, I can!" Robert protested. "I can!"

"Really?" Jared reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small bag of powder. "Reckon this will work?"

Robert nodded, slowly. "I bet."

"Good. No, let's go somewhere more priva-"

"No." A female voice interrupted. Both men turned to see Jules standing behind them, dishevelled, but furious. "Let's not."

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	46. Chapter 46

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to Celtic Lioness. Apologise for the shortness of this chapter!**

Robert raised an eyebrow, and looked at Jules. Jared turned, and spoke first.

"Seems the little lady is unhappy, Rob..." he chuckled, a deep, throaty sound. He placed the bag on the desk. "Maybe you should warm her up."

Robert glared at Jules. "Just leave."

"No." Placing her hand on her hip, Jules stood defiantly in front of him. "I'm not leaving here. Unless its with you."

Robert shrugged. "Suit yourself. But you may as well get yourself a drink. I don't plan on leaving here for a while."

Jared smiled at him. "That's the spirit." He gestured to the bartender, who nodded. "OK, Rob, come with me."

"Where are you-" Jules couldn't believe it.

"We're going somewhere to help Robert get his figure back," Jared told her. "You don't expect him to carry all this flab around, do you?"

"What flab?" Jules was outraged. "He's gained maybe a couple of pounds, thats all!"

Rob looked at her, his eyes narrowing. Jared shrugged. "Ignore her. She's probably planning on feeding you as soon as you go home. Come on."

Grabbing Robert's arm, the two men got up, and began to walk towards the backroom. Swallowing her anger, Jules waited, and watched.

* * *

Arthur sighed as he slumped on the couch. Ariadne, settling on the other end, smiled at him.

"You ok?"

He nodded. "Oh, yes. That was great." He grinned. "I knew finding someone who could cook was a good idea!"

She playfully hit with a cushion. "Stop it."

"No intention of doing so," he retorted. He opened his arms, and she began to unfold herself and cuddle up against him. "Mmm," he breathed.

"This feels-"

Suddenly, her iPhone began to buzz. She bit her lip. "Its probably Jules."

He nodded. "Answer it."

Ariadne pulled the phone out of her pocket. "Hello?"

* * *

"Look, you remember how to do this," Jared said, casually, as he began to chop the cocaine up on the small silver tray. He carefully ran his finger round the edge of the credit card, and rubbed the residue into his gums.

Robert looked at it. "High quality, no doubt."

"Oh, Robbie," Jared said, smiling coldly. "Trust me, nothing but the best for you. I can't kill my investment, can I? This is the finest stuff, I promise. Snort this, and you won't need to eat for at least a couple of days."

Robert swallowed. "Well."

"Come on." Jared's voice was insistent. "Sniff up. You need this." He looked at the black curtain, discreetly hiding the less than salubrious activity from the rest of the world. "Do you really want to carry on with that chick? You'll end up the size of a house!"

Robert looked at him. "Well, if you're sure-"

"I am." Jared's voice was quiet, insidious. "You see, Rob, you've looked a little heavy in photos of mine before. I've managed to get them photoshopped, so you don't look like too much of a whale, but I can't do it forever."

Robert blanched. "You did?"

"I did. Now, just sniff this, will you?"

* * *

"He's what?" Arthur looked shocked. "Come on, we'd better-"

"Do you think that's wise?" She asked, suddenly. Ariadne looked at Arthur, and felt a sudden mild rush of irritation. "Jules is there, she can-"

"Not when Robert's like this," Arthur said, looking serious. "When he's like this, anything can happen, trust me."

Ariadne looked at him. "I still think we should let Jules handle it." She looked at him. "I think we should be here when they get back, but-"

Arthur looked at her, his expression mutating into worry. "Ariadne, what's wrong?"

She swallowed. "I- we- I feel like our relationship is becoming focused on helping Robert. He needs help, I'm not denying it. But, we deserve..." her voice trailed away, and she lowered her eyes.

Arthur swallowed, and took her hands. "OK," he said, softly. Leaning over, he kissed her. "Point taken. I'll back off."

She smiled, but felt ill at ease. As though she'd been selfish. "Thank you."

* * *

****Jules had had enough. Getting off the bar stool, she walked to the back of the room, and pushed aside the curtain. As she did so, she saw Robert, bending over the plate.

He looked up, and caught her eye. Shaking her head, she turned, and began to leave.

**Thank you for reading, reviews appreciated!**


	47. Chapter 47

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

"You know, I was thinking," Ariadne said, softly. The two of them were lying on the couch, their feet meeting in the middle. Arthur reached for his wine glass.

"About what?" he said, softly.

"That when I'm in New York," she said, grinning, "I'll be cooking for you all the time!"

He leaned his head back and sighed. "Fantastic. I can't wait. Just living like a normal person. Being able to get up in the morning, shower, pull on clothes, and eat what I like. And being with someone who actually eats, rather than lives on water, coffee, and cigarettes."

"Summer?" Ariadne guessed. Arthur nodded. "Of course. Oh, Arthur, I can't eat another tic tac, its 2 calories!" he mimicked, and she burst out laughing.

"Trust me, being a model is enough to turn me into a feeder," Arthur sighed. "You see these women, and you realise the damage they're doing to themselves." He took a swallow of wine.

"Arthur," she said, hesitantly.

"Hmmm?"

"What you said earlier-about me-"

"I meant it," he said, gently. "I think I started to fall for you when we were out walking in Paris. You cheered me up, made me laugh, ate a cream slice, and didn't worry about checking your make up every thirty seconds. Trust me, I think I fell for you then. But I was worried that-" his voice broke off.

"About what?"

"That you'd think I was just a shallow idiot," he confessed. "Obsessed with my appearance."

"Arthur," she leaned over. "Have you ever done things to yourself? Like Robert?"

He shrugged. "It was suggested to Eames he might want to put me on a diet at one time, but I refused."

"Who suggested it?" she asked carefully. Arthur shook his head.

"Browning."

* * *

Robert leaned over the glistening line of powder. Jared smiled, maliciously.

"Sniff up, you need it." He practically pushed his head into the mirror. Robert began to sit up. "Wait, I-"

"What's wrong?" Jared almost hissed. "Do you want to end up a fat failure?"

Robert shook his head. "No," he whispered.

"Well, come on then."

Robert leaned over, and pressed one finger to his nostril. Taking a deep breath, he snorted the line. Choking slightly, he began to sit up. Jared smiled, contentedly.

"There, doesn't that feel better?" he asked, kindly. Robert, his nostril burning and head beginning to swim, nodded. "Just think. You'll stop expanding and get your metabolism going again. Now, take another hit."

* * *

Arthur looked at Ariadne. "Listen," he said, softly. She turned. "Yes?"

"I would really like to-" he paused, feeling a wave of embarrassment - "spend more time with you, and I mean, more intimately-"

"Yes?" she was smiling.

"But, I want it to be special." He leaned over, and took her hand. "How would you feel about spending a night - or a couple of nights - in a hotel? Something-"

"Arthur," she interrupted, "it sounds wonderful. But you don't have to go out of your way to impress me. And you don't have to tiptoe round this issue. Yes, I would like it to be special. But I have needs, and so do you, and I don't think we should-"

He blinked. Her response had taken him by surprise.

"Should what?" he asked, his voice husky.

"Hold back," she said, surprising both of them with the firmness in her voice.

"OK," he breathed. They leaned forward, their lips meeting in a deep intense kiss. As they met, she began to wind her hands around him.

"Shall we..." he breathed, huskily, "go to bed?"

She nodded, her face practically buried in his chest. "Yes."

Nodding, he began to get up from the sofa, entwining her hand in his. As they did so, they heard the front door slam.

Both of them blinked, Arthur's shoulders sagging. "Jules," he muttered. Ariadne nodded.

"And she's alone," she whispered.

Arthur bit his lip. "Ari, should we-"

She nodded. "She's my best friend. Yes, of course."

Carefully, the two of them made their way up the stairs. As they reached Jules' door, Ariadne knocked. "Jules?"

They heard a choking sob. Arthur shook his head. Linking arms, the two of them made their way away from the door.

* * *

Robert stood up, his eyes reddened, and vision slightly blurred. "Wow."

"You ok?" Jared asked, carefully. Robert nodded. "Never better."

"Good," Jared said, smiling. "I have some ladies I think you might like. My apartment, ok?"

Robert suddenly felt a slight stab of guilt. "Well, I should-"

"Oh, come on, are you telling me that redhead and you- are a couple?" Jared's mouth twisted in distaste. "Please."

Robert smiled. "Well, if you-" He paused. Suddenly, his heart seemed to be pounding. Jared turned, suddenly noticing Robert's pale face. "Rob, are you-"

To his sudden shock, Robert began to crumple to the floor.

* * *

Arthur sighed, and rolled over. After the dramatic interruption the previous night, neither he nor Ariadne had felt prepared to spend the night together. He rubbed his forehead. Waking up from gilded dream he'd been living in was one thing, he mused, but this was becoming a nightmare.

Sighing, he began to sit up, and rubbed his forehead. As he ran his tongue round his mouth, he realised he felt dehydrated. As he began to move out of bed, he grabbed the glass from the bedside cabinet, and walked downstairs to the kitchen.

No-one else's door was open. Shrugging his shoulders, he moved to the kitchen. As he turned on the faucet to pour a glass of water, he realised something was buzzing.

He sighed. His cellphone. He'd left it there the previous night. With a flash of anger, he saw it was Robert's number. He snatched it up. "Yes?" he said, tersely.

"Arthur?"

"Jared?" Arthur felt a sudden surge of concern. "Where...what-?"

"Arthur, listen. Come to the hospital. Its Robert. He's in a bad way."

Arthur clicked off the phone, and stared at it. "Again," he said, softly.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	48. Chapter 48

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

Arthur grabbed his leather jacket, and hurried to the front door. The keys for the car he'd rented were inside the pocket. As he opened it, he heard a voice.

"Arthur? What is it?"

Biting his lip, he turned. Ariadne stood on the stairs, her hair tousled. She smiled at him, sleepily. "You ok?"

He swallowed. "I...will be." He looked at her. "I just need to go out for a couple of hours."

She looked at him. "Its Robert, isn't it?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "He's back in hospital. And this time-" he swallowed, trying to calm his anger. "I'm tempted to tell him to stay there."

She bit her lip. "Just wait until you see him," she said, softly. Nodding, he leaned over and kissed her.

* * *

Robert lay in the bed, looking up at the ceiling. Dr. Bryce stood over him, shaking her head.

"I don't normally lose my patience with people, but with you, Mr Fischer, I'll make an exception." She looked at him, noting how his blue eyes were resembling smoked mirrors. "You're still underweight, which would explain the bad reaction to the cocaine. It put your body into a state of shock - and you ended up with arrythmia."

Robert swallowed. "Is it-"

"Bad? Yes. And I'll tell you this - its going to get a lot worse if you continue to refuse treatment." She shook her head. "I'm going to be making contact today with a clinic that specialises in treating eating disorders. And trust me, no-one will care that you're a model there. All they'll care about is that if you continue like this, you'll-"

Robert shuddered. The unspoken word was hanging in the air.

"I'll leave you to think about it," Bryce said, guardedly. "Oh, and Mr Fischer, another thing. Until you get transferred, you will behave appropriately in this hospital. What happened last time - throwing food, screaming at staff - does not happen again. We are trying to help you."

Robert looked at her. "I understand."

"Good." Bryce turned, as a young female nurse entered, carrying a tray. On it was oatmeal, juice, and toast. Robert blanched.

"I suggest you try and start now," Bryce said, her tone brisk. "I'll check on you in half an hour. And also, another thing - please be aware that we have the right to search you."

"Search me?" Robert choked out, tears now beginning to stream down his cheeks.

"Yes. For food you might be hiding, and cocaine. Now, eat."

Turning, the doctor walked out. Robert sat, looking into the oatmeal, tears running down his face.

* * *

Arthur parked, and opened the door. As he began to walk towards the entrance, he noticed a few people crowded around the door.

Paparrazzi.

He swallowed. He knew what they were lining up for. Pictures of Robert, sickly, pale, and wasted. Gritting his teeth, he began to walk towards them.

As he did, he realised they were starting to take photos of him.

"Arthur Ogilvie?" One over eager reporter rushed up, trying to shove a camera in his face. "Is it true? That you were there when Robert Fischer overdosed on cocaine? Its going to be the front page in the Tattler-"

Furious, Arthur turned round and grabbed the man by the collar. "Listen. Fischer is a friend of mine, and the Tattler is something to wipe your ass with, now, get out of my face!"

Stunned, the photographer backed off. Fuming, Arthur stalked through the doors, and went to reception.

* * *

Robert stared at the oatmeal. He dipped his spoon in it, and blinked. The hospital room was cold, and sterile. Closing his eyes, he wished he was back at the house. In the kitchen. With-

"Robert?"

He opened his eyes, and looked up. Arthur was standing in the doorway.

"You know, you can stare at it all you want, its not going to evaporate." The younger man approached him, and sat down. "You just have to eat it."

Robert bit his lip. "Arthur, I-"

"Listen, Robert." Arthur's tone was hard, and he felt his anger pulsing. "I'm sorry that you're here. But, what you did - let's just say you've-"

"Look, I know I've upset everyone, and-"

"This is so typical of you." Arthur shook his head. "Everyone tries to help you. Everyone tries to stop you hurting yourself, and all you do, is hurt everyone else."

"They're going to put me in a clinic," Robert blurted out. "Arthur, I-"

"Well, maybe its the best place." Arthur looked at him. "I don't know how Jules or Ariadne would feel about you coming back."

"Arthur." Robert sounded desperate. "Please. Don't-"

Suddenly, he broke off. Peter Browning entered the room.

"Oh, Robert," he said, soothingly. "I really need to take better care of you."

Arthur looked at him. "Really?"

"Well, put it this way. Get him back onto a better diet. Make sure he-"

"No," Robert whispered. "No, I'm not going to -"

"You'll do as you're told." Browning glared at him.

"I don't have to," Robert said, sullenly.

"No, he doesn't," Arthur said, coldly. "And trust me, his girlfriend and friends will take better care of him then you."

Browning looked at Robert, askance. "Girlfriend?" He shook his head. "I'll come back when you're feeling more yourself. But, trust me Robert, I'll look out for you when you're obese." Turning, he swept out of the room.

Robert's shoulders sagged. Arthur leaned over, and patted them.

"Hey," he whispered. "You'll be ok. Come on, let's get you out of here."

**Thank you for reading, reviews appreciated!**


	49. Chapter 49

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules - she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

Ariadne swallowed as she stood outside Jules' door. She could hear the sound of muffled crying, and pausing, knocked gently on the door.

"Jules?" She called, softly. "Are you ok?" She regretted the words as they left her mouth. They sounded trite, unconvincing.

No response. Turning, she began to leave. Suddenly, the door opened a crack, and Jules peeped out. Her face was flushed, and her mouth had a downturned slant. She looked at her friend, despondently. "Ari..." her voice cracked, and a fresh wave of tears began.

Ariadne couldn't speak. Leaning forward, she hugged her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Nodding mutely, Jules led her inside.

* * *

Arthur sat in the sun, smiling at the waitress who brought him his cappuccino. Robert sat, silently. Not moving. Arthur took a look at him. His face was paler than usual, and his eyes were darkly shadowed. Arthur picked up his cup, and took a sip.

"I'll explain the ground rules when we get back."

Robert nodded.

"But, I'll tell you this." He leaned forward, his eyes intense. "I'm taking a risk here for you. And if you don't live up to it, then you go to the clinic. Understand?"

Robert glared at him, anger flashing in his eyes. "Oh, so you're going to bully me now, are you Arthur? Getting your own back?"

Arthur leaned back in his seat, slightly stunned. "Get my own back? My own back for what?"

Robert smirked. "The times I took other jobs from you, other shoots...because I was thinner."

Arthur felt a surge of fury, but choked it down. "Yes, you're thinner than me Robert - but also lonely, sick, and depressed." Arthur saw the other man flinch, but couldn't help himself. "I'm going back to the house, and I'll be seeing my girlfriend. As for Jules, well - I think you've-"

"STOP IT!" Robert shouted, loudly enough that other patrons began to look at them, muttering. He flushed slightly, and got up. "I don't need this, all right? I just don't!"

To Arthur's shock, he pushed the chair out, and got up. "Just leave me alone!"

Before Arthur could move, the other man was beginning to walk away, rapidly.

* * *

"What happened?" Ariadne asked, gently.

Jules sniffed, and wiped her eyes. "I followed him. He was at a club." She swallowed. "With another guy. I think he's name's Jared."

Ariadne nodded, the name was familiar. "He was giving him cocaine."

"What?" Ariadne's eyes widened in horror. "Jules, they-"

"I left," Jules said, quietly. "I couldn't stand it. Watching him do that. He's destroying himself, and I don't think he even cares. Its what he's used to."

"So what are you going to do?" Ariadne asked, softly.

"I'm going to leave." She shrugged, and gestured to her packed case. "I can't bear this. He's sick, he needs help, I can't help him. None of us can."

Ariadne bit her lip. "Well, I-"

"I'm sorry, Ari," Jules choked out. "But I can't do this."

"When are you going to leave?"

Jules looked numbly at the case. "This evening. I'll be back in my apartment."

"OK." Ariadne struggled to think of additional words. "Well, I-"

Suddenly, they heard the front door slam. The two women looked at each other. "Arthur," Ariadne said softly.

They began to head down the stairs. "Arthur? Is that you?"

"Yes!"

Ariadne paused, taken aback by the abruptness of his voice. As she walked further, she saw him, standing in the hallway. "Are you allright?" she asked, carefully.

Arthur shrugged. "He's gone." Turning, he walked towards her, pulling her into his arms.

"Gone?"

"Yes. Saw him at the hospital, and then, he just walked away." Arthur shook his head, and to her shock, she realised that he was nearly crying. "It didn't work. He doesn't want help. Its time I accepted that."

"Well, I-"

"Come on," Arthur said, simply. "Let's just try and relax." He looked up. Jules was walking down the stairs, a suitcase in her hand.

"I'm heading back to my apartment," she said, simply. "This isn't going to work, Arthur. It isn't."

He nodded. "Its ok."

Jules leaned forward, and hugged him. "You tried, Arthur. You tried."

* * *

A couple of hours later, Arthur and Ariadne slumped together on the couch. He was idly rubbing her foot.

"Stop it," she said, as she looked at his facial expression.

"Stop what?"

"Worrying." He smiled, faintly. "There's nothing you can do."

He shrugged. "Its just - he'll go back to Peter, and get sicker, and next thing, he'll be collapsing on the catwalk, in front of everyone." He shuddered. "He'll die."

Ariadne looked at him, her eyes moist. "I know."

* * *

"Here is your key, Mr Fischer."

Robert smiled thinly at the receptionist, . "Thank you." He carefully placed his platinum American Express card back in his wallet, and collected his key. He knew she wouldn't contact the press - he had money to buy immediate silence. He began to walk up to his room. As he did so, he heard a voice.

"Robert! Fancy seeing you here!"

He turned, and swallowed. "Summer. How nice to see you." Feeling a rush of fear, he turned, and practically ran for the elevator. She watched him go, smiling.

* * *

Jules sighed as she unlocked the door to her apartment, and dumped her case on the floor. Sighing, she flopped down on the couch.

Picking up the remote, she began to idly flick through the TV channels. Suddenly, she sat upright.

_"And there is particular concern for Mr Robert Fischer. Mr Fischer, a top model, was hospitalised for what is believed to be nervous exhaustion. He left the hospital before completing treatment."_

Angrily, Jules flicked the TV off. "Like I care," she muttered, trying to keep angry tears at bay.

* * *

Robert collapsed onto the bed. The hot shower had barely helped. He glanced at the walls, noting how cold and impersonal the hotel room seemed after staying with the others.

He heard a knock on the door, and shuddered. "Robert? Robert? Is my little boy in there?"

He swallowed, not daring to speak. After a few minutes, he heard footsteps moving away. He paused, and winced. Closing his eyes, he dissolved into tears.

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	50. Chapter 50

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Robert sighed, and burrowed down in the bed. The mattress was firm - too firm, and his ribs pressed into it. Wincing, he pulled the blanket around him.

Suddenly, he heard another knock on the door. "Robert?" it was a pleading, pitying voice. "Robert, let me in."

He turned, heard, and felt himself stiffen. Closing his eyes, he waited for Summer to leave.

"Robert. If you don't let me in, I'll call Browning. Tell him where you are!"

He ignored her.

"Robert!"

Gritting his teeth, he reached for the receiver, and grabbed it. Pressing 0, he called reception. "Yes sir?"

"Hi, its Robert Fischer in suite 491. A woman is harrassing me by banging on my door-"

"No problem Sir. Security will be there right away."

"Robert! Don't you dare call security, I'll-"

He blinked. Summer sounded infuriated. Hating himself, he began to get out of bed. The banging persisted, and he opened the door. Summer stood there, her face twisted with anger.

"Oh, so you finally drag yourself out of bed?"

"Leave me alone," he whispered, hoarsely. "Now."

"All alone?" She practically pushed past him. "Where's that trashy little piece you've been hanging around with?"

Robert flushed with anger. "She's not trashy," he practically snarled. He sat down on the bed, and opened a packet of cigarettes. Putting one in his mouth, he struck up a lighter. "She's incredibly sweet."

Summer looked disgusted. "What happened to you?"

He glared at her. "I fell in love. All right?"

"So why are you here?"

Robert shrugged. "Not your business."

Suddenly, there was another knock on the door. "Security!" called a male voice. Robert smiled. "Please, come in!"

A uniformed guard entered. "May I help you?"

"Yes, please." Robert gestured to Summer. "This is a deranged fan. Please remove her."

Security nodded. "Certainly." He reached over, and took Summer's arm. "Please, come with me."

"You-" her face darkened, and she glared at Robert. "You-"

He smiled at her. "Please. Just go."

Summer glowered at him as she was pulled away. "You'll pay for this, Robert Fischer," she snarled.

Robert shrugged. "I've already lost my health, my career, and the only people who ever cared about me." He put the cigarette in his mouth. "Nothing else for you to do, trust me."

The door slammed. Taking the cigarette out if his mouth, he mashed it into an ashtray. Getting up, he began to gather his clothes, and dress.

* * *

Arthur sighed, and shifted in the bed. He felt a weight of misery settling in his stomach, which would not dissipate. He turned over, and let his face rest on the pillow.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "Arthur?"

He blinked. "Yes?"

Ariadne opened the door, and peeked in. "Arthur, are you..." her voice faltered. "I thought you might want some-" she stood, blushing. He swallowed, and nodded.

"Please." He turned down the cover of the bed. "Please."

She slipped off her robe, and huddled in next to him. He turned, looping his arm around her waist. She was wearing soft pyjamas, and he inhaled the scent of her skin and hair - a delicate floral smell, no doubt the shower gel she used. He let her cuddle next to him.

"Its not your fault."

Arthur swallowed, feeling comforted by her words. "Ari...its just..." he moved closer. "Its just Robert is so alone. So alone. Browning just uses him. Summer used him. He's surrounded by hangers on, but because he's Robert Fischer, Jr, they've let him have his own way all this time. And its killing him."

She let his head rest on his shoulder. "Please promise me you were never like that."

Arthur sighed. "I was offered diet pills once."

"Arthur!"

"I said, offered." His voice was mild. "I never took them." He swallowed. "Eames once told me I needed to watch it, but I told him that I'd rather not model than become hooked on something."

"Arthur, if you ever do start taking anything...I will leave you." She turned to face him. "I mean it. I'd rather you weighed 400lbs than ended up like Robert!"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "I don't think I'll ever get that heavy," he said, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face. "But, I'm not as thin as I was."

She curled into him. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is that you're you. That's why I'm with you. You don't make me feel like some short, drab little thing. You don't make me feel like a freak because I'd rather go to a museum than go shopping for clothes. And you don't make fun of me because of my-" her voice faltered - "lack of experience."

Arthur leaned over and kissed her. "Ari, I would never do that. Trust me."

She nodded. "I do."

His arms tightened around her, and her eyes closed. Slowly, they began to drift into sleep.

* * *

Jules lay in bed, too confused and angry to fall asleep. Closing her eyes, a montage of images washed through her mind. Robert. Accusing her, shouting, angry.

"Yeah, should have just bought a cage and shoved you in it, and pushed food at you through the bars" she muttered. "Then you would really see me as the wicked witch." She hugged her pillow, burying down into the bed.

Suddenly, her cell phone began to bleep. Annoyed, she snatched it up. "Yes?"

"Jules. Robert. Can we...talk?"

She frowned. "Where are you?"

"I'm outside your building. Please. I need you."

She blinked. His voice sounded broken, desperate. She bit her lip, desperately fighting an inner voice. _He's manipulating you. _

Jules swallowed. "OK. I'll let you in."

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	51. Chapter 51

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules - she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

Jules sank into a chair, and waited. Robert had three flights of stairs to walk up. She checked her watch. It was nearly midnight.

After what seemed an interminable wait, she heard a soft knock on the door. "Jules?"

She bit her lip. The mental rehearsals of seeing Robert had not prepared her for seeing him face to face. She got up, and opened the door, peering out.

"You're here." Her voice was flat, and emotionless. Robert nodded, silently. Swallowing, she took a step back. "You'd better come in."

Robert stepped cautiously into the apartment. "Jules, I-"

"I'm going to bed," she snapped, turning her face away. "There's a couch, and a spare bedroom over there." She pointed to a closed door. "See you in the morning."

Robert stood, his mouth slightly open. "You invited me upstairs, and-"

"I wasn't going to have you hanging around on the street outside all night." She glared at him. "Where have you been? A hotel?"

"Hospital," he said, brokenly. She looked at him. "Oh, I see. You overdosed. Right?"

"No, I didn't," he said, his tone defiant. "I had a bad reaction. Next thing I know, I was in hospital. Then, Arthur came to see me, and-"

"And what?" Jules didn't try and conceal her hostility and growing contempt. "I left the house because of this. I couldn't stay there. Trying to help you. Trying to help someone who just won't accept it." She shook her head. "You're going to die, Robert. I mean it. You'll probably collapse in a bathroom somewhere, after you've had another hit. Or you've thrown up your lunch. And you know why? Because you listen to scum like Jared, who only wants to make money out of you, rather than people who actually care."

"Well, I know, and Jules, I'm sorry-" He looked at her, his face paling further. "I know I'm in trouble and-"

"You're pathetic," she snapped. "And, contemptible. And I'm going to bed. See you in the morning." Without another word, she began to leave the room, Robert sinking into a chair behind her.

* * *

"You comfortable?"

Ariadne shifted, her head resting on Arthur's chest. "Very." Her voice was drowsy. "You make a-" she paused, her voice trailing into the night. He tightened his arms round her. "A what?"

"A great cushion," she mumbled, and Arthur smiled. "Thanks."

"I-" she blinked. "Sorry. Its just you're so-"

"No, its a compliment." He sighed, happily. "I'd rather be cuddly." He pulled her tighter. "I'm thinking...how do you want to decorate our apartment in New York?"

She blinked. "Our? I-"

"Ari. Did you think I'd ask you to move there and then ask you to live somewhere else?" He shook his head. "And you're the Architect, so its up to you."

"I just-" She paused. "Are you really sure about this?"

"Very," he said, thinking of something he'd spotted in the city centre that afternoon, when he was trying to assist Robert. "I'm very serious."

She laughed. "You'll be asking if I want to marry you next-"

He bit his lip. "Uh-"

"Arthur!" Ariadne looked at him, her face full of consternation. "Oh, I'm sorry! That sounded so-"

"No, its ok." He reassured her. "I'm just - rushing ahead."

She leaned over, and kissed him. "Well, I guess that makes two of us."

He let her nestle in the crook of his arm. "When the time's right," he promised, "you'll be making me the happiest - and luckiest - man alive."

She blushed. "You flatter me."

He kissed her. "No. Its the truth."

* * *

Jules turned over, and looked at the clock. Nearly 1am. She sighed, and began to get out of bed.

As she opened the door, she saw Robert still sitting, slumped in the chair. Swallowing, she approached him.

"Robert?"

He blinked, and turned his head towards her. "Oh. Hi."

"Look, Robert," Jules said, feeling the flames of her anger began to wither, "I think you ought to go to bed. Get some sleep. We can talk in the morning."

He nodded. "OK." He got up, and she saw that his clothes were hanging on him, loosely. Reaching out, she took his hand. "Come with me."

Docilely, he allowed himself to be led into the bedroom of her apartment. Jules pulled off her robe, and collapsed back into the bed, pulling the covers over her pyjama clad form. Robert swallowed, and after removing his shoes and socks, got into bed next to her, still fully clad.

"I um-" he swallowed. "I haven't-"

"I'm not going to take advantage of you," she said, turning her back on him. "I just don't like the idea of you being out there alone."

"You mean in case I have an urge to leave in the middle of the night." He flushed. "To get cocaine. Or just throw up."

"Precisely." She nodded, turning to face him. "What made you leave hospital?"

He flushed. "They were going to send me to a clinic. Browning turned up. Arthur helped me leave, but I couldn't-"

"Couldn't what?"

"I knew that I-" He blushed. "Jules, I don't know if I can-"

"Beat this?"

"Yes." He nodded. "I'm pathetic."

Jules moved closer, and reached her hand out. He took it, and the two of them nestled together.

"Not pathetic," she whispered. "Just ill. You can get better. But do you want to?"

Robert swallowed, remembering Browning, and Summer. "Yes."

"OK. But Robert-"

"Yes?"

"From now on," she looked at him, "you play by our rules."

He nodded, meekly. "Yes."

She leaned back. She wasn't entirely sure she could trust him. He blinked, and looked at her.

"Jules. I do-"

"Go to sleep."

Nodding, he closed his eyes.

**All readers appreciated, and I'd love some reviews, thank you!**


	52. Chapter 52

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

Robert blinked, and stretched. Reaching out a hand, he noticed that the other side of the bed was empty. Sighing, he turned over. He could hear the sound of water running, and assumed that Jules was in the bathroom.

He stretched out, and gazed at the ceiling. It was painted a soft green, and the colour was soothing, making a change from the impersonal white of the hotel. He turned over, and to his surprise, the door opened.

"Morning." Jules stood in the doorway, a robe over her pyjamas. Her hair was loose and tossed around her shoulders. She was holding a mug. "Thought you might need this."

Robert swallowed. "I - thank you."

"Don't mention it." She looked at him. "Shower's free."

He nodded. "OK."

"And get changed."

He nodded again, obediently. "Of course."

"And then-"

"Yes?"

"You're coming to work. With me."

Robert blinked, his eyes widening. "Coming to work? With you?" His tone was incredulous. Jules nodded, impatiently.

"Yes, Robert, you're coming to work, with me. Because my boss has just called." She swallowed, but when she spoke, her tone was crisp and businesslike. "One of the other chefs has called in sick, and so has one of our waitresses. Now, as you have nothing to do all day, I think the best thing is for you to come into work, with me."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I see. Use me as unpaid slave labour for the day. Well, I'm sorry, but I'll have to decline."

"And do what?" Jules' tone was edged with anger. "You don't have anything to do. And coming to work with me will be better for you than sitting around here, feeling sorry for yourself."

"You work in a restaurant!" Robert exploded. "I'll be surrounded by food!"

"My cupboards aren't empty," she retorted. "I suggest you come with me."

He bristled with anger. "Jules, I-"

"You've got 30 minutes." She checked her watch. "I need to be at work for half eight."

She turned, and left, leaving Robert to spit with fury. He grabbed the mug, took a sip, and then headed for the shower.

* * *

Arthur turned over, and Ariadne sighed and nestled against him. Smiling, he leaned over, and kissed her. "Morning," he whispered.

She shifted. "Morn-" she began, before breaking off into a yawn. He let her press against him. "You ok?"

"Mmm..." she murmured, sleepily. "We should do something today."

Arthur cleared his throat. "I agree."

Suddenly, Ariadne's cellphone emitted a piercing electronic bleep. She blinked, reached over, and grabbed it. "Hello? Jules? What? Oh! Well, yes, we can be there...ok!"

"What is it?" Arthur asked, after a pause.

"Jules is...taking Robert to work with her today. I said we'd drop by, give some moral support."

"She's with Robert?" Arthur blinked. "Well, maybe he feels safe with her. At least, I hope he does." Suddenly, he turned to Ariadne. "Wait a minute. Isn't Jules a chef?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"She's taking Robert to the restaurant?" Arthur groaned. "I hope she knows what she's doing."

* * *

"Is the radio too loud?"

Robert turned to Jules, his facial expression sullen. She had kept to her word - at half eight, she had insisted that they leave. Robert had barely time to button his jeans or pull a t-shirt over his head before he was ushered out of the door.

"No, its fine," he retorted. After what seemed an interminable drive, she swung the car expertly round a small back alley. As she opened her door, she smiled at Robert. "Come on. Monsieur Starr will be so happy to see you!"

Robert blinked. "Jules, I really think that this is-" he swallowed. "A bad idea. I can't serve people! I don't know how to!"

She cast him a glance. "That's part of the problem," she said, evenly. "You don't know...how to do anything."

Robert sucked his breath in, trying to think of a sharp retort. She slammed the car door, and headed for the back entrance of a dingy looking building, leaving no time as she disappeared inside. . He swallowed, composed himself, and then began to follow her. As he approached the door, it swung open, causing him to jump back slightly.

"Ah!" A slightly portly, middle aged man was standing in the doorway. "You must be Robert!"

"I-" Robert was momentarily stunned. "I am," he replied, slightly haughtily, his face revealing his discomfort. "So-"

"JULES!" The man barked. After a few seconds, she appeared, in the doorway, a white chef's jacket buttoned over her clothing. "Yes?"

"Why do you bring him here?" the man bristled. "He looks like a scarecrow, a skeleton! How is he going to encourage my customers to eat?"

Robert felt his anger beginning to rise. "I am NOT a scarecrow!" He almost shouted. "I'm a model!"

Monsieur Starr shook his head. "Oh, no. One of them! This is worse!" He looked at Robert again. "You look as though you live on air!"

"What?" Robert's voice increased an octave. "What do you mean, one of them?"

"One of them!" Monsieur Starr said, vehemently. "Someone who is paid to diet! Someone who thinks food is something other people eat!" He wagged his finger at Robert. "You're so thin, you'll collapse if I give you a heavy tray to carry!"

"I will not!" Robert snarled. "The least you can do is give me a chance!"

Monsieur Starr turned to Jules. "My new waiter is a man who won't eat. This is terrible!" Shaking his head, and muttering to himself in French, he turned and stalked back in. Robert stood in the parking lot, red-faced and furious.

Jules swallowed. "Well, Rob, if you come in-"

"Oh, I'm coming in all right!" He snapped. Without waiting for a further invitation, he strode past her. Jules shut the door carefully, then went to find her employer.

**All reviews appreciated and read, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	53. Chapter 53

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

"Jules!" Monsieur Starr turned to his employee, and shook his head. "I cannot have him working here. He is too thin, too weak, no?"

Robert bristled. "I am-"

"Robert," Jules interrupted. "Please." She turned to her boss. "Look, we need a waiter for the day, and I am doing this on a designated day off. He can help us, its that simple."

Starr was shaking his head. "He doesn't look like he can even carry trays, he's-"

"Morning!"

Robert turned. Another young man, his height, but more filled out, was standing at the entrance to the kitchen. He smiled flirtatiously at Jules. "Well, hello. Good to see my favourite chef is back!"

Jules blushed slightly, and Robert blinked. "Well, hello Josef. Good to see you."

"Oh, and who is this?" Josef turned to Robert, his light grey eyes sizing up the other man. "A new kitchen boy?"

"This is a friend of mine," Jules said quickly, "who has offered to help out today." She cast a look at Robert, who closed his mouth, which had fallen open in indignation.

"Yes, that's correct," he said, frostily. Josef raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"Well, you don't look like someone who should be working in a restaurant." He grinned cockily, and began to walk towards the back of the kitchens. As he reached them, Robert hurried after him, and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"What do you mean, I don't look like someone who should be working in a restaurant?" He glared at the other man, who smiled back.

"Well, put it this way. People who work in restaurants...usually look as though they eat." He looked Robert up and down. "What do you live on? Water? Air?"

Robert squared his shoulders, and gazed coldly at Josef, unable to think of a verbal response. Swallowing, he accepted the apron that Jules silently handed to him, and tied it round his waist. Josef looked at him, smiling coldly. Feeling himself prickling with embarrassment,

* * *

Arthur laced his fingers through Ariadne's as they began to walk through the streets. The sun was warming his face, and he inhaled the air.

"Feels good?"

"Oh, yes." He squeezed her fingers. "And we're-"

He paused. "Oh, God. Look whose heading our way."

Ariadne blinked. Summer, an ugly look on her face, was heading towards them. "Arthur!" she barked, completely ignoring Ariadne standing at his side.

"Well, hello, Summer," Arthur replied, coolly. "What can I do for you?"

"Robert," she snapped. "He was at my hotel the night before last, and-"

Arthur blanched, and looked at her. "Well, I-"

"_He had me thrown out of his room!"_ Summer snarled, dramatically. "How could he! I thought he was lonely, and needed cheering up-"

"Clearly," Ariadne said, coolly, "he preferred loneliness to your company."

Arthur turned, his features settling into an expression of admiration. Summer glared at the younger woman.

"I wouldn't be like that, little girl," she growled. "You may think you've got him under the thumb, and that friend of yours may have enslaved Robert, but its not going to last!"

Ariadne stood, open mouthed, as Summer moved away. Arthur wrapped his fingers around hers. "Not going to last?" he whispered. "Trust me, its going to last."

* * *

"Robert!"

Robert sighed, and ground his teeth. He'd been on his feet for what seemed to be hours, and he was already smarting as a result of the rude comments he'd endured by customers. He swallowed, his cheeks burning as he recalled the obnoxiousness of one man.

"Look," he snapped, as Robert put a plate before him. "I ordered French toast, not pancakes, ok? Jesus, what is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry," Robert said, trying to remain calm. "I'll go and-"

"No, you won't do anything," the tourist said, harshly, his face contorting with anger. "I need someone who can actually serve helping me!"

Robert, his face flaming, slunk back towards the kitchen. Jules looked up from the salad she was assembling. "What's with you?"

"These people," Robert huffed, "are so rude!"

Jules placed her salad tongs on the side. "Robert," she said, evenly, "are you telling me you were always polite to people who served you?"

He swallowed. "I, uh, well-" he blushed. "Not always," he admitted. He looked at the floor, and Jules patted his arm.

"Its ok," she said, gently, "besides, its your break. Fancy a snack?"

"I, uh-"

"You had no breakfast. You can have a salad to tide you over?"

Robert swallowed. "Um-"

"Robert." Jules looked at him. "You need to eat something."

He shrugged. "I'll be-"

Suddenly, he heard Monsieur Starr's voice, as he appeared behind them. "Robert! Why are you standing here? You need to be serving customers!"

"Oh, Robert can't handle it," Josef's oily voice suddenly oozed from behind him. "Poor guy, needs a sit down and a rest!"

Robert bristled, furious. "I can handle this, trust me!" Pushing past Josef, he stalked back out to the customer seating area. Four young women were sitting, chatting. From their accents, he deduced that they were American. Swallowing, he walked over.

"May I help you?" he asked, courteously.

One looked at him. "Um...Eggs Benedict, please," she said, then blinked. "Are you-" she shook her head. "No, that's not possible."

"What isn't?" Robert asked, guardedly.

"Well-" she laughed, slightly embarrassed. "You look like a guy called Robert Fischer, he's a model. But there's no chance. I mean, you work in a place where there's food!"

Robert gaped. "What?"

"Well, my brother's a photographer. He knows Fischer. And he tells me the guy's a legend - lives on coffee and cocaine." She shook her head. "There's no way you could be him - he's very disciplined!"

"No," Robert snapped, "he's sick!" Turning, crumpling the order in his hand, he stalked back towards the kitchen. Jules looked up. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Robert said, shortly. As he hooked up the order, Josef suddenly appeared. "Had enough?" he smirked, his eyes dancing with mischief. "I was just about to grab a latte and croissant. Would you be interested, Robert?"

Robert looked at Jared's sister, and then at Josef. "Yes," he said, decisively. "I would."

**I love reviews, if you could leave one it would be great, thank you!**


	54. Chapter 54

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

"Are you serious?" Josef looked at Robert, blinking in shock. "You actually want a croissant?"

"Yes," Robert replied, almost defiantly and crossing his arms. "I do."

Josef looked at Jules, who swallowed. "Why don't you guys take a seat," she suggested. "I can have them brought over."

Josef nodded. "Sounds good." He began untying his apron, and started to move towards a corner table. Swallowing hesitantly, Robert followed him.

As Robert sat down, a waitress approached their table, and carefully laid a tray on the top. It contained the croissants, and coffee. Robert reached for a plate, eyeing the curved pastry and small helping of jelly, sitting on the china like a scarlet kiss.

Josef picked up his croissant, and began to tear it into chunks. Swallowing, Robert reached for his knife, and began to cut into his. Reaching out with the knife, he scooped up some of the jelly, and carefully placed it on the folds of the pastry.

Josef looked at him. "You ok?"

Robert nodded. "Yes." Lifting the croissant to his lips, he began to bite into it. Josef watched him, as an expression of surprise flitted across his face.

"What?" Robert asked, chewing.

"I've just - never seen someone look so enraptured by eating a croissant before," the other man muttered, placing his cup down.

"Well, I-" Robert swallowed. "I just never eat them that often."

"I got that impression," Josef said, nodding.

Robert picked the croissant up, and bit into it again. The taste was electrifying. He carefully licked a crumb off the corner of his mouth. Josef took another sip, his face creasing in surprise.

"In fact, I-" Robert stopped. The croissant was causing him to feel sickly, and, he noticed with alarm, heavy. "I'll be right back," he muttered, and got up.

* * *

Arthur smiled as he led Ariadne into the restaurant. Not even the unpleasant encounter with Summer could dent his mood. As they were ushered to a table, he looked at her.

"You ok?"

"Sure," she said, nodding. "I'm fine." As they settled themselves, she looked at him. He frowned slightly. "What is it?"

"Arthur," she said, carefully, "don't you think its time something was done about Summer?"

Arthur frowned. "How do you mean?"

"She's such a troublemaker. She just causes everyone grief." The words were out of Ariadne's mouth before she could stop herself. "She really-"

"I know," Arthur said softly. "I did date her for a while...and she was just as bad then." He rubbed his forehead.

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Did you-" Ariadne paused, not sure of how to phrase the question. "Did you try and help her?"

Arthur nodded. "I did. In the same way anyone would help a coked-up anorexic." He grimaced. "Seriously, she's ill, but won't take help. That's her problem. Which is why she and Robert were so bad for each other."

"What did you do?"

"I took her to a doctor's." He paused, memories starting to flood back. He vividly remembered sitting in the waiting room of the plush East side office, a short walk from his Mahatten apartment. Summer had been fidgety, trying to move. Arthur had tried to take her hand, only to find her pull away.

"It'll be ok," he'd reassured her. The doctor had walked back in, a good looking man in his late 30s, with a careful expression. In his hands was a piece of paper, that he presented to Summer.

"This is your diet sheet," he said, smiling. "If you follow it, then-"

"No," she said, harshly, cutting him off. He blinked, surprised.

"Well-"

"No, I'm not doing it!" She turned to Arthur. "I'll be fat!"

Arthur looked at the sheet. "Summer, this is just - healthy food. All it is. Not intended to make you-"

"I'll be plump after eating this!" She almost shrieked. "How will I get down the runway?" She jumped to her feet, glaring at Arthur almost accusingly. "You just want me to get fat, that's all!"

"Summer, I-" Arthur felt bewildered. "That is not true, I just want you to-"

"You're disgusting!" She snarled. "You just want a fat girl!"

Arthur could only watch, open mouthed, as she stormed out of the doctor's surgery. He swallowed, apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, no, be sorry for her," the doctor replied. "She'll collapse before too long. Not to mention lose her sex drive."

Arthur blinked. "Trust me, that will upset her."

He shook his head, trying to reconnect to the lovely young woman sitting opposite him. "So you did try and help her?"

"Oh, yes," Arthur said, nodding. "But you can't help someone like that." He swallowed. "But the best thing to do now..." his voice trailed away, and Ariadne looked at him.

"What is it?"

"It's a crazy idea," he muttered.

"Why?" Ariadne pressed.

Arthur looked at her, a tiny smile dancing on his face. "Because it involves re-introducing her to food."

* * *

Robert leaned over the sink, and looked at his reflection.

"Its just a croissant," he muttered, tightly. "That's all it was. You can handle it."

He began to straighten up. Suddenly, the door opened behind him, and Josef walked in. "You're needed," he said quietly. Robert nodded.

"Be out in a minute."

He swallowed, feeling an urge to rid himself of the croissant. But took a deep breath, turned, and followed Josef out of the bathroom, and back into the restaurant.

**Please review - it is appreciated!**


	55. Chapter 55

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to Celtic Lioness.**

Jules looked up as Robert entered the kitchen. His face was flushed, causing her to frown slightly. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Robert replied, a little stiffly. He swallowed and walked over to the sink. "Is there anything I can do?"

Jules nodded. "The dishes?" She couldn't help but smirk as a look of almost horror crossed across Robert's face. "You've never done them before?"

"Well, I, uh-" he began, and then shook his head. "No. Not really."

"Well, its a good time to learn." Jules wiped her hands on her apron, and walked across to him. "All you need to do is turn the water on, then add detergent. OK?"

Robert nodded. "No problem." Setting his jaw, he gently squeezed the plastic bottle, letting the thick liquid dribble down the plates. Picking up the washcloth, he began to work on the stack of plates.

Jules looked over at him, and couldn't resist smiling. Robert looked up, and caught her eye. "What is it?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing," Jules responded. "Its just I love to see a man work."

Robert scowled slightly. "I do work. I did work."

"Would you really call it work?" Jules challenged. "Getting made up, dressed up, paraded around like a show dog?"

Robert bit his lip. "I guess not. But then, I'm no good for anything else." He bowed his head down and began scrubbing the plates, vigorously.

"Who told you that?" Jules demanded, a wave of protectiveness for Robert spreading over her. He swallowed and continued to wash.

"It was-"

Suddenly, Josef walked into the kitchen, and grabbed two plates that were ready to go. He cast a quick glance at Robert and Jules, his lip curling as he left.

* * *

"Your order," Josef muttered. He gently sat two plates down in front of Arthur and Ariadne. Arthur smiled. "Thank you."

"Looks great," Ariadne said, smiling appreciatively. She picked up her fork, and looked at Arthur, who was carefully cutting his french toast. "So, how are you going to re-introduce Summer to food?"

Arthur took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. "Well, I have ideas. Maybe get her photographed from her bad side so she sees how ill she is. And maybe do the same thing for Jared." He cast a quick look over his shoulder at the other patrons. "He's as sick as she is."

"This all sounds very noble," Ariadne said carefully, dipping her fork into her Eggs Benedict, "but it won't do any good. I mean, you can't just invite them round to dinner!"

Arthur shrugged. "Why not? Might be an opportunity to build some bridges. Try and restore some better relations."

She smiled. "I think you're crazy."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Possibly."

"What do you think it would do to Robert?"

Arthur took a sip of coffee. "He'll be on our turf. They can't do anything."

Ariadne smiled. "You do have the craziest ideas."

"I know. But..." he said, smiling and leaning forward, "who said anything about them actually eating anything?"

* * *

"Who said that to you?"

"Who...oh, sorry, I think I've used too much detergent-"

"Never mind that, we can get another bottle." Jules faced him. "Stop avoiding the question. Who told you you were no good for anything?"

Robert sighed. "Browning. He used to be a business partner with my father. And told me I'd never understand it, so to use my face and body to earn money instead."

She shook her head. "You always let people make decisions for you? You really do need to start taking back control of your life." She checked her watch. "Oh, its my break time. See you in a bit."

She untied her apron, and carefully placed it on its hook. Grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge, she hurried to to the main restaurant area.

Robert stood at the sink, carefully rinsing the plates. He'd created a clean stack, and settled them gently on the side, letting them drain. He reached for the towel, and dried his hands.

"So, did you enjoy the croissant?"

Robert turned. Josef stood behind him, his arms folded. Robert swallowed and nodded. "I did."

"Well, if you don't mind me saying, you looked a little green after eating it," the other man commented. "Sure there's nothing you're not telling us?"

Robert shook his head. "No, there isn't." His tone was guarded. Josef shrugged his shoulders, and left.

* * *

"So, you think its a good idea?"

Jules shook her head. "Arthur, its an insane idea. But it could be...amazing."

He smiled. "I'm glad you think so. Hopefully it might make them both realise that there's more to life than how they look."

Jules took a swallow of water. "Hopefully." She began to get up. "I've got to head back to the kitchen."

* * *

Josef stood outside, smoking. He cast a quick glance through the window, taking in the pale man who seemed completely engrossed in the washing of plates. He stubbed his cigarette out, and flicked the butt into the bushes. Turning, he began to walk back into the restaurant through the back door.

As he walked back out through the door, he encountered Jules.

"Can I have a word?" Josef asked, his tone pleasant. Jules nodded, and followed him. They walked into a small back office, and Josef pulled the door closed.

"What is it?" Jules asked.

Josef swallowed, and looked at her. "What's up with Robert?"

"Nothing." Jules shook her head. "Why?"

"Well, earlier, he and I ate together," Josef continued, carefully watching her reaction, "and he seemed a little...discomfitted."

"He doesn't know you," Jules pointed out. "Not like I do."

Josef nodded. "Of course. But, in the bathroom-"

"Josef, leave it. I don't want to hear this."

Josef leaned forward, and whispered softly.

"I think he was going to make himself vomit."

Smiling, he turned and began to walk out, leaving Jules staring after him.

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


	56. Chapter 56

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to Celtic Lioness.**

Jules blinked. Feeling slightly sick, she turned and grabbed a couple of order notes that had been hooked up for her attention. Swallowing, she pretended to be engrossed in them when Robert walked back in.

"Hi," he said, smiling. She looked up. "Hi."

He blinked, noting her slightly terse response. "Um, are you ok?" he asked, cautiously. She nodded. "Oh, fine. Absolutely fine." She lowered the order note. "And you?"

"Well, yes." He bit his lip, feeling puzzled at how they were interacting as though they were people who had only just encountered each other that morning. She nodded at him. "Listen, if you want to go for the rest of the day, you can. It was probably a little mean of me to make you do this. Go on, I'll see you at-" she paused. "I'll see you at the house, later."

"The house?"

"Well, I told Ariadne and Arthur I would come back and help them clean it ready for when the Cobbs return." She turned back to her orders, seemingly making mental notes of what she required to prepare the meals. "So, you go on. Leave."

Robert nodded, his facial expression puzzled, but also slightly hurt. "All right. I'll-" he paused. "My stuff. Its at your place."

"Oh. Right." Jules bit her lip, aware of how strange the conversation must sound to an onlooker. "Well, I'll meet you at the house, and give you my keys, ok?"

He nodded. "Right." Turning, his shoulders slightly slumped, he began to leave. Jules concentrated on the goat's cheese salad she had to prepare, trying to shove her gnawing concern to the back of her mind.

* * *

Arthur turned, noticing Robert walking back through the restaurant. "Robert?" he called after him. To his surprise, the slightly older man ignored him, and continued to walk.

Arthur bit his lip. "Should I-" he paused, and shook his head. "No, he's an adult. He'll be fine."

Ariadne smiled, and nodded. "He will be." She felt slightly relieved that Arthur was not running after Robert, and instead was focusing on her. "So, what shall we do?"

Arthur leaned forward. "Let's do some tourist type things today. Go to the tower, walk around an art gallery - just enjoy being in the city. Being together."

"What about your plan for Summer and Jared?"

Arthur smiled. "It can wait."

* * *

Jules carefully chopped up the salad, and with a flourish, decorated the green leaves with the small chunks of cheese. With a precise aim and measurement, she gently drizzled olive oil over it, causing the leaves to glisten with freshness. Suddenly, she heard the click of heels, and turned. Josef was besides her.

"Where's Robert?" he asked, his tone casual.

"Oh, left for the day," Jules replied, trying not to reveal how upset she was feeling. "That's all."

Josef nodded. "Shall I take this out?"

"Please." Jules turned, and wiped her hands on her apron. Turning and leaning over the sink, she brushed away a tear.

* * *

Arthur stood in the queue, waiting to purchase the tickets for the gallery. Ariadne was standing away from him, admiring the view.

"This is so..." she breathed. "Perfect."

Arthur nodded. "Isn't it?" Smiling, he walked over and took her hand. "Its-"

Suddenly, the peace was shattered by some excited giggling. Frowning, Arthur looked over. A small group of girls were standing near him, one of whom was pointing. Slightly discomfitted, Arthur firmly clasped Ariadne's hand, and walked back to his place in the queue.

He turned. They were still looking, but suddenly their looks turned to shock, and annoyance. Arthur, his fingers firmly wrapped around Ariadne's, leaned down and gently nuzzled her ear. As if finally getting the message he was unavailable, they began to stalk off.

"She's so lucky," he heard one mutter. Arthur pulled Ariadne closer.

"Arthur, were they-"

"Oh, just girls who thought I was-me," he said, sounding surprised. She looked at him. "How do you mean?"

"Well, being recognised - I've sort of forgotten how annoying it can be," he said, his arm round her waist. "But," he grinned, looking at her, "I think they got the message."

* * *

Robert sank onto the couch, feeling slightly stunned. As he stretched out, trying to work out what had happened, his cell phone began to ring.

"Hello?"

"Robert?"

"Yes?"

"Its Peter. Listen, I need to talk to you. Where are you?"

Robert swallowed. "I don't think that's a good idea. Really."

"Robert, you cannot keep on avoiding me or the situation forever. You really cannot. You have to come and talk to me soon."

Robert shook his head. "No, I don't." He leaned back, and closed the phone, cutting Browning off.

* * *

"I am going to miss this place," Ariadne said, looking at Arthur. "I love it here."

He looked at her. "Really?"

"Yes."

He stopped. "Ari..."

"Yes?"

"We don't have to go to New York. We could always stay here?"

* * *

Robert dozed, his mind flitting through dreams that felt vaguely unpleasant. He felt Summer lurching towards him, carrying something. "Come on," he heard her coo. "You know you want to, you know you-"

"Rob?"

He blinked, and began to sit up. Jules was leaning over him, a concerned expression on her face. He narrowed his eyes, noting that they seemed slightly red.

"Mmmm?" he murmured, sleepily. He began to sit up, moving over. "Jules."

She sank down next to him, and then turned to him. "Robert, I need to know the truth." She looked at him. "When you ate that croissant this morning..."

"Yes?"

"Did you think-" she swallowed, the words feeling leaden in her mouth, "did you think of making yourself vomit?"

He bit his lip. "Jules-"

"Please." She reached for his hand. "Would you just tell me?"

"Briefly," he admitted, "but- I knew how you would feel. And how I would feel."

She blinked. "Robert-"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "but this is bigger than me. And I-"

She reached for his hand, and wrapped her fingers round it. "We'll fight it."

He looked at her. "Together?"

She nodded. "Together."

**Thank you for reading, reviews appreciated!**


	57. Chapter 57

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

"So when did you begin to feel...this way?"

Robert swallowed, noticing the warm pressure of Jules' fingers. He began to shift in his seat, and began to speak.

"When I was 27." He looked at her. "About...six years ago."

She didn't release her grip. "Long time."

"Well, it was what I felt I had to do. I was getting older - 27 is elderly in modelling. I was aware of younger men coming up. I couldn't afford to get fat. So, I-"

"Why do you think you were going to get fat?" Jules pressed, suddenly gripped with a need to get to the root of the problem. "What was it?"

"Well, I-" Robert sighed, and sunk back into the couch. "My weight has always been an issue. With people."

"Really?"

"Yeah. My father's housekeeper - Lucinda - she's been with the family for over twenty years. When I was a teenager, she always baked."

Jules raised an eyebrow. "And you enjoyed it?"

Robert smiled, suddenly becoming engulfed by a flood of memories. He vividly remembered himself at 15, coming home from another day at his expensive prep school. He'd come into the kitchen with a bruise on his face, the result of an argument with a group of boys who ruled the school. They'd been goading him, for being "soft." He'd responded by trying to run, only for them to jump on him, knocking him to the floor. He'd returned with bruising, and a ripped shirt, which he'd tried to conceal under his blazer.

The only adult in the house was Lucinda - the only adult he trusted. Every day, he went to the kitchen, to greet her. Most days, she had baked - gingerbread cookies, chocolate chip, vanilla. She'd always encouraged him to eat.

"I worry about you," she'd told him. "You're too thin."

Robert had shrugged. "Still growing," he'd pointed out.

Jules blinked, surprised by this brief snapshot of Robert's past. "She cared for you."

"Yep." Robert nodded. "She did."

"What about when you started modelling?"

He winced. He had returned back after spending a couple of years living and working in LA, and returning to Sydney had been a shock. He'd emerged from an exhausting fourteen hour flight to his waiting car, returning to his father's mansion. The first person who'd greeted him, he thought bitterly, was Lucinda.

"Robert!" She had never stood on ceremony, always referred to him by his first name. She'd been standing waiting on the steps, and pulled him immediately into a tight embrace, her crisp grey uniform contrasting sharply with his black Armani suit. "Robert, you're so-"

"What?" he said, humourously. "Tanned?"

"Thin!" she burst out. "Robert, you're skin and bones! Don't they let you eat over there?"

Robert had flushed. "Well, its my job to be like this," he said, almost defensively. He'd flinched at Lucinda biting her lip in consternation. "Its-"

"You're far too thin!" she insisted. "You really need to fatten up! Come on, I'll cook for you!"

Jules turned to him. "She said that?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. "Suddenly, I was being criticised from two sides. My manager for being heavy, and the closest person I had to a mother telling me I was too thin. I felt I couldn't win."

"So what happened?"

Robert shrugged. "My father was sick, in the hospital undergoing tests. So, Lucinda took over for the two weeks I was there, and insisted I eat everything put in front of me. I gained 6lbs in two weeks."

Jules whistled. "That's a sign you were under eating. Your body needed the calories."

Robert chuckled. "Probably. I was living on a salad and water each day, with some protein. She told me to eat carbs."

"And how did your manager react?"

"When I got back to LA-" Robert's face darkened - "Peter was waiting for me at the airport. And told me that I'd somehow turned into a fat pig."

Jules shook her head. "He's such a moron. What did you do?"

"Accepted it." Robert swallowed. "And went on a diet. But - I still felt the urge to eat. Whenever I'm miserable, I have to have something sweet."

"Associative memory," Jules commented. "Lucinda baked for you when you were miserable, it comforted you. So as an adult-"

"I need cookies or cake if I'm upset," Robert agreed. "But I can't eat them. Not then. So, I-"

"Started to vomit?"

"Worse. I'd starve for several days, then binge." He swallowed. "I'd live off salad, and then gorge. But what I really wanted-"

"Was love. Someone to love you for who you are, not what you are." Jules finished. "Robert, did you see Lucinda after you started doing this?"

He nodded. "Christmas. Two years ago. I flew back to Sydney. She took one look at me, and-"

He stopped, unwilling to talk anymore. He still felt cold when he remembered the confrontation, Lucinda's previously kind demeanour transformed into near-screaming fury. "You're destroying yourself, that's what your doing. Look at you- you're so thin you look as though you'll snap! Why can't you just leave this, come home?"

"Because I want a life of my own!" Robert had retorted. "I want a life outside of my father's shadow!"

"But, Robert!" Her voice had been tearful, pleading. "Robert, you're almost a son to me! I can't bear to see you like this!"

"No," he snarled, "you'd rather I was just a good little fat boy who does as he's told!"

He'd stormed out of the room, swearing he'd never return. As he'd left, he'd turned back to see the look of painful anguish on Lucinda's face.

"Oh, forget it," Browning had told him, over dinner at a restaurant. "She always tried to stuff you, Robert. I think she mistook you for a turkey. Now, eat your salad."

"I think," Jules said, hesitantly, "you need to see her again."

He nodded. "Yes."

"But you need to be healthy first. Come on." She looked at him. "I'll cook."

Robert smiled slightly. "Why do all the women I love try and feed me?"

She blinked, taken aback by the stark declaration. "Because we care. Come on."

He leaned forward, and began to wrap his arms around her. "Not just yet." As their lip met, Jules felt herself pulled under by the strength of their emotions.

**All reviews appreciated and read, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	58. Chapter 58

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to Celtic Lioness.**

Jules swallowed as Robert pressed himself to her. She brought her arms round him, tightening their embrace. He began to gently move his hands upwards, caressing her skin. Before she realised it, his lips were down on her neck, lightly tickling her shoulder.

She giggled slightly at the sensation, and brought her hands up under his shirt. Despite the feel of his ribs, she continued to explore, aware that he was mirroring her. He leaned down, letting his body weight sink onto hers.

"Jules," he whispered, his breathing hot near her ear, "Jules, I-"

Suddenly, there was a scraping sound in the door, and a male voice called out. "Arthur? Ariadne?"

Robert blinked, and sat up, his breathing hurried. "Who-"

Eames strode into the living room. "Arthur, Ariadne, I-" he stopped when he saw Robert, flushed, and Jules, whose skin had gone decidedly pinker.

"They're um, not home right now," Robert faltered, feeling the older man's eyes fall on him. "I, uh-" He got up, and hurried into the kitchen, his face scarlet. Sighing, Jules began to sit up, and faced the intruder.

"Well," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Eames, isn't it?"

He bowed. "The very same. Jules, isn't it?" She nodded. "Well, nice to see you again. Where are the other two?"

"Out," she said, shortly. She looked at him. "Coffee?"

"Lovely." He nodded. "I'm sorry I interrupted you-"

"Forget it," Jules said, batting his apology away with a wave of her hand. She walked into the kitchen, to find Robert very studiously looking at a flyer that had been delivered that morning. She began to fiddle with the espresso maker, neither of them speaking.

Finally, he broke the awkward silence. "Jules, I-" he faltered. "I would-"

She looked at him. "I know," she whispered. "So do I."

His eyebrows went up. "Really?"

She nodded. "Yes. Really." She concentrated on the espresso, and Eames wandered in. "Robert. Good to see you. How are you?"

"I-" Robert stopped, and looked at Eames. "Trying to get better."

Eames nodded. "Robert, if you want to continue modelling, I'm happy to manage you." He seated himself at the breakfast bar. "Trust me, I won't resort to Browning's methods."

Robert raised an eyebrow. "Oh. So you won't yell at me for eating a cube of cheese or shout I'm too fat in front of an audience?"

Eames shook his head. "No, just ask Arthur. I don't believe in public humiliation."

Robert nodded. "I might-" Suddenly, he slid off his own stool. "I need to go upstairs for a bit. See you later."

Jules turned to Eames. "Eames, you-"

"I know, sorry, I'm tactless," the older man interrupted. "But, listen. Browning is not happy. And he's spreading rumours."

"Rumours?" Jules raised her eyebrows. "Such as?"

"Oh, that Robert's been abducted by a woman who wants to do nothing but feed him into oblivion," Eames said, noting the annoyance flickering across Jules' face. "Which is why I'm here. Its time he and Arthur got out and proved to the rest of them that they're both still alive and got it for the cameras."

"Thanks Eames," came Arthur's voice. "But I don't need to prove it to anyone." He and Ariadne had their fingers firmly laced within each others'. "Especially not Browning."

"Listen to me," Eames urged. "Its a show. A big show. They need two very good looking male models, and I thought that you-"

"Eames," Arthur interrupted. "I doubt I'll fit into their clothes right now. Noticed?"

Eames shrugged. "A couple of pounds, big deal. We can handle that."

"We?"

"The designer is Gordon Nash, old friend of mine." Eames smiled as Jules placed an espresso in front of him. "He's very amenable to alterations."

Arthur shook his head. "No, I'm not doing it."

"Well, that's a shame." Eames shook his head. "After all, Summer and Jared will be there. Don't you want to show them you're still part of the A-list?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. Not especially. Eames, I'm going to build a life here. Go back to college, study, do something worthwhile-"

"Well, I-"

"Well, what?"

Eames looked guilty. "I've already signed you up."

"Eames!" Arthur practically yelled, getting out of his seat. "How could you?"

"Well, it was-" Eames looked flustered. "Arthur, come on, its one show-"

"And after that," Arthur said, sternly, "no shows, right?"

Eames nodded. "Right."

Arthur shook his head. "OK." He sighed and slumped back down on the kitchen stool. "But, let's make it clear. I don't want Summer or Jared coming near Robert, if he agrees."

Jules turned to him. "He's not doing it. Please."

Eames raised his eyebrow at Jules' sudden display of protectiveness. "Well, I-"

"I think I can."

Robert had returned, and was standing in the doorway, his arms folded. "I think I can. I don't need protecting."

"Robert." Jules suddenly became aware of the charged atmosphere in the room. "Robert, I-"

"No, I can do it,"he said, stubbornly. "When is it, Eames?"

"A couple of weeks."

Robert nodded. "Good." Turning, he began to leave the room again.

* * *

A few hours later, Ariadne and Arthur were lying side by side, nestled into one another. Ariadne sighed and buried her head into his shoulder.

"You ok?"

"Yes, just-" she faltered. "Arthur, this show, are you sure its the right idea?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. "Its my chance to say good bye to everyone, and also-" he paused, unsure of what to say next. "Well, let's just say its my chance to say goodbye."

She nodded. "OK." She smiled. "But, I don't think you need to worry about the clothes!"

Arthur grinned. "Yes, I do. Those jeans I wore the first day I arrived? They're hard to button up now!"

"Why do you think Robert wants to do this?"

Arthur shook his head. "No idea."

* * *

"Its the only way to get rid of Browning."

Jules swallowed. "But are you sure you're up to it?"

Robert's eyes darkened. "I'm not a child."

"I didn't say you were. But-"

"Look." He placed a placating hand on her arm. "I can handle it."

She sighed. "If you say so."

"I can." He nodded. Then he smiled. "What we were doing earlier-"

"You're in my room," she said, a slight warning note in her voice.

"I know," he nodded. "I just want-to hold you."

She lay down, and allowed him to wrap himself around her. "How's that?"

"Perfect." As he closed his eyes, he sighed with contentment.

**Thank you for reading, reviews appreciated!**


	59. Chapter 59

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

Jules sighed and turned over, her long red hair streaming onto the pillow. Robert, who was lying next to her quietly, smiled. Gently, he leaned over and touched her cheek, and then proceeded to carefully slide himself out of the bed.

As his feet touched the floor, he heard her murmur, and turn over. Getting up, he began to walk to the door, opened it, and started to head for the stairs.

* * *

Arthur blinked. He thought he heard footsteps. Careful not to disturb Ariadne, he began to get up, and moved. As he reached the stairwell, he noticed a light coming on in the kitchen.

* * *

Robert bit his lip. Opening the refrigerator, he began to pull out bread, cheese, butter, and ham. As he opened the silverware drawer, looking for a knife, he turned, and saw a figure framed in the shadows.

"Who is it?" he asked, his voice roughening slightly. Arthur took a step in, the light illuminating him. "Relax, Robert. Its me."

"Oh." Robert's shoulders sagged slightly. "I-"

"Feeling hungry?" Arthur gestured towards the items laid out on the counter. Robert's faced burned slightly with embarrassment. "No. I-"

"Robert." Arthur looked at him. "Its not a criticism. I promise." He smiled. "I could be up for a midnight snack."

There was a ghost of a smile on Robert's face. "Help yourself." He concentrated on spreading butter on a slice of bread, then carefully, precisely, cut a slice of cheese. A thin slice, the other man noted. He watched as Robert, with almost geometric perfection, laid the slice of ham on top. Carefully, he picked up a knife, and sliced it in half. Then, he picked up the plate. "Want half?"

Arthur swallowed. "Robert, that's very good of you, but don't you think you should-"

"I know," the slightly older man sighed. "Eat it all." He put the plate down, and looked at it. "I'm trying."

"I understand," Arthur said, gently. "But, you have to break out of these -" he swallowed, aware he was possibly veering towards offending the other man - "bad habits."

Robert nodded. "I know." He sighed. "Like missing breakfast, missing lunch, missing dinner-"

"And living on coffee and cigarettes," Arthur finished.

The older man looked at him. "I don't really need you telling me what my short-comings are." He stared at the plate. "Its just- "Arthur, what am I going to do when I'm not modelling?"

"Business?" Arthur said, carefully. "That could be good."

Robert shrugged. "Possibly. Or-" he looked at the plate again. "Well, working with Jules today gave me an idea-"

"What idea?" Arthur asked.

"Becoming a chef."

"A chef?" Arthur felt his eyes bulge slightly. "Robert, are you serious?"

Robert nodded. "I am." He rubbed his face. "I think I could be relied on to know about nutrition."

"Robert, listen to me." Arthur sat opposite him, his dark brown eyes meeting Robert's ice blue ones. "You still have a-" he swallowed - "a pretty difficult relationship with food. Are you sure this-"

"Arthur." Robert looked at him. "Please. Don't patronise me."

Arthur swallowed. The iciness of the other man was disconcerting, and suddenly he realised how Robert had avoided confrontation over his eating disorder for years. "But don't you think being surrounded by food will-"

"Will be what?"

"Triggering?"

Robert swallowed. "I'll have Jules with me."

Arthur looked at him. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Arthur." Robert rubbed his face. "I think, all I've ever wanted, was someone who cared for me, and not 'Robert Fischer', product of the catwalk. She -" he swallowed. "She's wonderful. Really wonderful. She wants to-"

Arthur nodded. "You see a future with her?"

Robert nodded. "If she'll have me. But first-" he looked at Arthur - "I want to do this show. I want to prove that I'm still alive, and then bow out. And then, get away from Browning, Summer, Jared-"

Arthur nodded. "I see."

"But-" Robert bit his lip. "I know what they'll all say. That I look enormous, that I'm huge-"

"Robert." Arthur's voice was barely perceptible. "Does it matter? Just now, you were so-"

Robert looked down at his hardly touched sandwich. "Yes," he said, quietly, "it does." He shrugged. "I'm kidding myself, Arthur. I'll never be rid of this. And I want to be a chef? I'm never going to-"

He stopped. Jules, blinking, was standing i the doorway. Behind her was Ariadne.

"Right," Jules said, her voice calm. "What's going on?"

Arthur got up. "I'm going back to bed." He turned and looked at Robert. "We were just having a chat." He looked at Ariadne. "Are you-"

"Yes," she said, gently. Arthur looped his arm around her waist, and they headed back to the bedroom.

* * *

Jules sat opposite Robert. "You going to eat that?"

* * *

"He wants to what?"

Arthur nodded. "I know." He sighed. "This is going to sound awful, but-"

"But what?"

"Might be the best thing for him." He looked at her. "He needs someone to ground him."

She tightened her grip around him, and he closed his eyes, nuzzling the top of her head.

* * *

Robert looked at her. "Yes." Picking the sandwich up, he took a bite.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Jules frowned, and looked at her watch. "Its 3 am, who could-"

Robert shrugged. "Ignore it."

The doorbell rang again. Jules bit her lip. "I can't, they'll disturb the whole-" her sentence was interrupted by another ring on the door. She got up. "Sorry, I have to answer this."

Robert sighed, and took another bite, letting the taste of the salty meat and soft creaminess of the cheese roll over his tongue. He chewed and swallowed, realising that he was actually hungry.

* * *

****Jules opened the door, and blinked.

Peter Browning stood there.

"Well, good evening," he said, politely. "May I come in?"

**All reviews appreciated and read, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	60. Chapter 60

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, who belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

Jules' jaw dropped slightly as she took in the sight of the florid, overweight man before her. "Its-" she paused, and then started to shut the door. "No," she said, coldly.

Browning moved forward, and put his hand on the door. "No, I insist. Robert's been under a lot of strain lately, and I want to check that he'd all right."

"Its 3am," Jules repeated, crossing her arms. "You can ring him."

Browning, smiled, placatingly. "I promise I just want to talk to him."

Jules shook her head. "I said, no," she replied, her irritation beginning to to flare. "Please, just leave!"

Browning took another step. "I'm afraid I-"

"Who is it, Jules?" Robert called. Browning smiled at the young woman. "So, he's still up?"

"Robert," Jules called back, carefully. "Why don't you go to bed? I'll handle this."

Robert, holding half of the sandwich he'd made, walked through to the hallway. "Jules, what is-" his jaw dropped slightly as he saw Browning.

The older man nodded. "Robert! You're looking so well! Almost plump, in fact!" He began to step forward, ignoring Jules, and placed an almost fatherly hand on the younger man's arm. "We really need to talk."

Robert shook his head. "No, we don't. I'm going to finish eating this, and then I'm going to bed." He cast a look at Jules. "With my girlfriend."

Browning blinked, and turned his head from Robert to Jules. "Your girlfriend? Oh, Robert, thats so sweet. I keep forgetting, you haven't had many relationships, have you?" He smiled. "Except Summer. She really loved you, and you broke her heart!"

Robert's eyes narrowed. "No, I just never met anyone who cared about me. Including Summer." He shrugged the older man's hand off his arm, and walked over to Jules. "Shall we?"

Jules blinked, taken aback by this newly forceful Robert. "I, uh-"

"Seriously." Robert took her gently by the elbow. "I want to spend some time with you. Alone." He turned and looked pointedly at Browning. "And its getting late, so I think our guest needs to be going."

Browning looked at Robert. "Well, if you say so Robert." He turned and began to walk to the door. "Of course, I'll have to speak to Mr Saito tomorrow, and tell him the model he's still tipped for his show is unavailable."

Robert nodded. "Yes, you do that."

"I'll tell him that you're getting too fat to wear his clothes!"

Robert shrugged. "Suits me." Jules turned. She noticed that beneath the defiance, Robert's hand was trembling. She swallowed, and moved closely to him.

"No, I mean it," Browning said, his voice harshening. "I accept that you've met someone - and that she clearly likes you heavier. A lot heavier. But, please accept, that your career is over. You know you could only have 500 calories a day, and you're no doubt eating four times that much!"

"Well, I discovered that I like-" Robert blinked, his courage slowly beginning to desert him. "I discovered-"

"You like food." Browning shook his head. "Your father would be disappointed!"

"My father was disappointed the day I decided to go into this!" Robert snapped.

"Well, I suspect that was the case." Browning turned to Jules. "You've done him some serious damage, you-"

"What's going on?"

Browning blinked. Eames was standing in the hallway, smiling pleasantly.

"Sorry," he said, affably. "But I was given the downstairs backroom - and I overheard. Hello Peter, what brings you here?"

Browning smiled. "I'm here to try and convince Robert from making a serious mistake. The mistake of staying here, eating himself to death!"

"Eating himself to death?" Eames shook his head. "Beg to differ. We all know how he kept his weight down when he was on the runway - bingeing, purging, laxatives, smoking-" he looked at Robert. "Oh, and something else, if I recall correctly."

"Part of the deal," Browning snapped.

"No, it isn't." Eames shook his head. "I manage Arthur...and he never resorted to that."

"Well, you should have put him on a tighter leash!" Browning responded. "Otherwise he'll end up with someone like this -" he glared at Jules - "who is determined to feed Robert into-"

"I choose what to put in my mouth!" Robert almost shouted. "Jules does not make me eat!"

"I'm ashamed of you!" Browning snapped. "You can consider our arrangement terminated! Oh, and yes, I will be seeing you in court! Part of that fortune is mine!"

"Go ahead," Robert snapped. "I can afford it!"

"So you're really serious?" Browning looked at him, and shook his head. "Quite how you think a fat has-been like you is ever going to find any more modelling work-"

"Or," Eames chipped in, "how an increasingly healthy young man is? Simple. He's mine. That's it!"

Browning bristled. "Oh, going for the obese market, are you Eames?"

"Obese?" Eames whistled. "Look, I've seen more meat on a butcher's knife than on him. If anything, he needs to get a bit healthier - and then he'll be fit to go back on the catwalk." Eames nodded. "I think that concludes our conversation. Good night."

Browning glared at Jules. "Well, when you need help pushing him through the door-"

Jules turned and looked at Robert. "I think we'll be fine."

Eames put a hand on Browning, and all but pushed him out. "Good night!" Without allowing another word, he slammed the door in the older man's face.

* * *

**All reviews appreciated and read, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	61. Chapter 61

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to Cletic Lioness. **

Arthur sighed and turned over. Ariadne, also awake, moved closer to him. "You ok?"

"Fine." He swallowed. "What's going on down there?" He shrugged and wrapped his arm around her.

"You going to check?"

"I think Jules and Eames can handle it," he replied. Suddenly, they heard the sound of a door slamming.

Ariadne bit her lip. "Well, if you're sure-"

"I am." Arthur exhaled slowly, and sank back down into the pillow. "Please. Let's not- get involved." He closed his eyes, and using his fingers, began to stroke her back. "Robert needs to learn to stand up for himself. I sometimes think I've done more harm these last couple of weeks than good."

Ariadne shifted so her head was lying on his chest. "You haven't."

"Well, I don't feel its been that positive." Arthur sighed. Regret was beginning to course through him. "I've been in difficult positions before in this career. I've been put in positions where I've felt forced into things I didn't want to do."

"Such as?"

Arthur swallowed. "I, um-"

"Arthur!"

He blinked, taken aback by the forcefulness in her voice. "Oh, it was to do with Summer. She threw a party, I went to it, she tried to corner me into taking cocaine with her."

He felt Ariadne's hand freeze on his chest. "And did you?"

"No."

"You should have told the police."

He snapped to attention, and turned his face to hers. "What?"

"You should have told the police," Ariadne insisted. "That would have stopped her. Maybe it would have helped Robert."

Arthur, a feeling of guilt beginning to stir, fell silent. Leaning over, he wrapped his arms around Ariadne, burying his face in her hair. "I know. I wasn't very...rational."

"Well, Summer isn't the easiest person to deal with." She sighed. "Arthur, why did you date her?"

His head snapped up. "Well...we only went on a couple of dates. For dinner." He screwed his face up slightly, trying to pull out the painful, and fuzzy memories. "It wasn't pleasant."

"Let me guess." Ariadne had a small smile dancing on her face. "She ordered salad and then refused to eat it."

"You know." Arthur was smiling. Then he sighed. "But, she's troubled as well. She's as sick as Robert was."

"Well, maybe handing her to the authorities would force her to help herself," Ariadne argued, persuasively. "She needs it."

"Yes, but-" Arthur stopped. "Listen, I'm here, with you, and don't want anyone else here. Can we just focus on us?"

She nodded, but felt slightly stung. "Of course."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." Arthur reached for her hand. "Its just - I think I've spent too much time focusing on other people and their problems, and not enough focusing on you, and now I-"

Ariadne leaned over, and kissed him. As their lips met, Arthur felt his faint anxiety start to melt away. "Stop it," she whispered. "The fact you care is why I'm with you." She gently traced her finger over his lips.

Arthur kissed her back. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you, so much."

* * *

Robert sighed and settled next to Jules. She looked at him. "You ok?"

"Yes." He nodded. "Nice of Eames to stand up for me."

"I think he feels you shouldn't have to kowtow to Browning."

"I know, but its not that easy." Robert swallowed. "I signed a contract, agreeing for him to be my manager for fifteen years. That was only seven years ago." He bit his lip. "He could sue."

"I would deal with that when it happens," Jules advised him. "Come on, lets sleep."

Without complaining, he allowed her to gently push him down on the bed, and cuddle up next to him. A smile started to curve his lips.

"I couldn't imagine doing this a couple of weeks ago," he admitted.

"Neither could I. You'd have snapped in half."

He grimaced. "I was pretty sick."

"Robert. You were ranting, raving, refusing to eat-" Jules curled up, her head on his chest. "I did wonder if you were ever going to-" she paused. "See sense."

"Well, life feels better now," he said, softly. "Thank you. But-"

"But what?"

"I still wonder. What's Peter going to do?" He shuddered. "Take me to court. Clean me out-"

"Would that be so bad? You could start again with a clean slate."

He nodded, sleepily. "I guess." He closed his eyes.

"Robert?" Jules whispered. "Robert, we could-"

A slight snore indicated he'd fallen asleep. Trying to suppress a smile, Jules wrapped her arm around him, and settled to sleep.

* * *

Arthur blinked as the light streamed in through the curtains. Turning his head, he saw Ariadne lying peacefully next to him, her hair falling in shining waves across her face. Smiling, he leaned over and kissed her.

"Morning," he whispered.

Clearing his throat, he swallowed. Feeling dehydrated, he decided to replenish himself, and began to get out of the bed. Grabbing his robe, he began to head down the stairs.

"Morning!" a voice called from the kitchen. He blinked. Eames was already in the kitchen, sipping black coffee. As Arthur entered, he raised an eyebrow. "Sleep well?"

The younger man frowned. "I did ,thanks. What is it?"

"Well..." Eames shook his head. "I suppose you know we had a late night visitor..."

"Yes," Arthur said, irritably. "And I hope you told him to leave?"

"Oh, we all did. But...seems he has to have the last word." Eames tossed the newspaper he was holding to Arthur, who picked it up. As he scanned the contents, he caught a few words that caused his jaw to sag.

"This isn't true." He looked at Eames, and shook his head. "This is just...sick."

Eames took the paper back, and began to read. "Model Client? Peter Browning claims that he's been deceived by Robert Fischer." He coughed, and continued. "Mr Browning, 54, claims he is justified in feeling angry at the callous treatment meted out to him by Mr Fischer, 32. According to Browning, Fischer has become close to a young woman who seems determined to feed him. And its not just Fischer - Arthur Ogilvie, another top male model, has been spotted in Paris looking plumper of late."

Eames looked at Arthur. "Lovely turn of phrase!" He smiled. "And, Artie, you're really not that much plumper, I assure you-"

Arthur was scarlet. "What else?"

"Oh, just this- 'Its outrageous,' Browning told our reporter. 'Both of these men have been warped by a pair of vindictive young women, who are clearly determined to fatten them up. This is obviously revenge for the fact that both feel inadequate in comparison to the standard of beauty these men hold up."

Arthur shook his head. "He's sick. Completely." He slammed his fist on the table. "Never mind that Robert was starving and bingeing, never mind he was dying!"

"And-" Eames continued. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Arthur began to move. "I'll get it!"

As he reached the door, he frowned. He could see flashes from behind the glass, and he opened it a crack. Suddenly, a flashbulb ignited in his face. "Arthur!" Shouted a male voice. "Can we get a full body shot?"

Furious, Arthur slammed the door, and bolted it. He hurried back into the kitchen. "Paparazzi!"

Eames nodded. "Thought so. Come on, go and get dressed, wake up Robert, and get the girls."

"What for?" Arthur demanded.

Eames grinned. "We're going to go and see my pal Nash, and confirm you will be in his show! And-" he added, looking at Arthur, "you both will be incredible!"

"But-" Arthur's jaw dropped. "What Browning said-"

"Oh, I know!" Eames said, cheerfully. "This means war!"

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	62. Chapter 62

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to Celtic Lioness. And thank you so much for the reviews - 8 for one chapter is amazing!**

"War?" Arthur repeated, stupidly. "War?"

"Yes!" Eames almost thundered, his grey eyes flashing. "War, Artie, War! And-" he looked at the young man, still clad in his robe - "you are about to fire the first shot! Here!"

Arthur felt something being thrust into his hand, and looked down. His eyes widened. "Eames? Is this-"

"Brioche!" Eames said, almost excitedly. "Right, out you go! Go and talk to them!"

"You want me to talk to the press...with brioche in my hand?"

"Well, its meant to be eaten, Arthur."

"Eames, the press have just claimed I'm getting fat." Arthur shook his head, beginning to feel irritated. "How is eating Brioche going to help? They'll print I'm on the verge of exploding!"

"Well, this will show you're not bothered if they do. Go on. Go out there, eat the brioche, and talk to them." Eames' tone was persuasive, and as the pastry began to leave a greasy imprint on Arthur's palm, he swallowed. "Well..."

"You need to show them you're not bothered. Go on!"

Sighing, fixing a grin on his face, Arthur turned and began to walk towards the front door.

* * *

Ariadne turned over, and sighed. As she brushed her hand against the pillow, she began to open her eyes. "Arthur?"

Suddenly, she heard what sounded like a shout from outside. Puzzled, she got up, and began to look out the window.

* * *

"What's going on out there?" Jules murmured. She still had her eyes closed, with Robert's arm draped over her chest. He mumbled. "Probably nothing."

"Doesn't sound like it." He leaned closer. "Come on..."

"I think we need to see what's going on," she insisted. She began to get up, gently disentangling Robert's arm. "Come on."

Robert groaned. "Oh...I was in the middle of a dream..."

"Robert." Jules turned to him, her eyes twinkling. "I can make reality better. Now, come on. Get up!"

* * *

"Arthur! What's that in your hand?"

Arthur turned and faced the press, his face still wearing a fixed grin. _I will kill you, Eames,_ he murmured silently.

"Its brioche." He held it up, then opened his mouth, and took a bite. Several flashbulbs exploded simultaneously, disorientating him. He chewed, and swallowed.

"Oh my god, its true. He eats," he heard one female voice mutter. Feeling emboldened, he took another bite of brioche, allowing the creamy sweetness to explode in his mouth. He swallowed, feeling the sugar hit his bloodstream.

"No wonder he's getting fat," he heard another voice mumble in disgust. "His manager should have him on salad and water."

Arthur bristled. Eames had given up trying to dictate his diet.

"Arthur! Turn to the side!"

He blinked. "What?"

"I want to get a shot of your paunch!" The photographer, greasy, and dark haired, smiled cruelly at him. "Let's show the ladies how enormous you now are!"

"Enormous?" Arthur lowered the brioche.

"Yes!" The paprazzi was already raising his camera again. "I mean, plump is a vague term! And probably a kind one!"

Arthur felt a rush of anger. "OK, he said defiantly. "I'll show you my paunch." He began to unbelt his robe, suddenly grateful he was wearing pyjama pants.

"Now, be careful," the paparazzi leared. "I'm not using a wide angled lens!"

Arthur smirked. "Do I need it?"

As he let the robe slide off his shoulders, the assembled group gasped.

* * *

Ariadne hurried down the stairs, nearly colliding with Eames, on his way up. "What's going on?" she gasped. Eames smiled, placatingly. "Oh, nothing to worry about. Just Arthur-"

"Just Arthur what?" she demanded.

"Well, he's with the press at the moment-"

"What?" She blinked, unbelievingly. "Right now?"

"Yes, they're on the doorstep-"

Ariadne almost pushed past him. "I don't believe this!"

* * *

Flashbulbs popped as Arthur revealed his lightly sculpted, toned torso. One journalist looked at him with a puzzled frown.

"Mr Ogilvie, you're not showing any excess weight at all. How come Mr Browning felt the need for his remarks?"

Arthur shrugged. "Well, I'm just not living on carrot sticks and water. I eat. I think that's hard for him to take. But it shouldn't. I mean, you should have noticed that he obviously eats as well."

A murmur of laughter erupted amongst the group. Arthur bit into the brioche.

"So, you think his criticisms are unjustified?"

"I think he's wrong to try and make me feel bad because I don't look like a corpse," Arthur retorted. "Seriously, what girl wants to date a guy who looks like he needs three meals on an IV drip?"

This generated more laughter.

"And what about you, Arthur?" One voice called out. "Summer Quinn is claiming you have a taste for the larger lady. Your thoughts?"

Arthur bristled, but smiled.

"I have a taste for women who look healthy. Natural." He swallowed. "I'm not into breast implants, fake lips, and no personalities."

At this, the assembled press began to scream with laughter. "Is there anyone special?" another voice called out.

"Yes," Arthur said, firmly. This elicited a gasp.

"How special?" a female voice called.

* * *

Biting her lip, Ariadne began to open the front door. She opened it enough to catch Arthur's last words.

"She's special enough that I want her to marry me."

Blinking with shock, the petite young woman closed the door, and leaned against it.

**Please review - it is appreciated!**


	63. Chapter 63

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Swallowing back her shock, Ariadne turned and ran back up the stairs. As she was heading for her room, she nearly collided with Robert.

"What?" The older man said, as the younger woman nearly pushed him over. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I, um," Ariadne paused. She looked at him, biting her lip. "Is Jules up?" she asked, realising that she was verging on ignoring him completely.

Robert looked taken aback. "She, uh-"

"What's going on?" Suddenly, Jules walked out, wearing a large t-shirt over her underwear. She glanced from Ariadne, to Robert. "Would someone fill me in?"

Ariadne fell silent, suddenly feeling as though she could not speak. "Its...nothing...its...just-"

"Is Arthur outside?" Jules asked, alluding to the sounds of whooping and laughter travelling up from the porch.

Ariadne nodded. "He is." She looked from one to the other. "Excuse me."

She hurried to her room. Jules looked after her, her expression settling into one of concern.

* * *

"Married?" one reporter commented, almost disbelievingly. "Are you serious?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes, I am. And I'm also cold. Please excuse me. Thank you."

Turning, he began to walk back up the steps, firmly shutting the door of the townhouse as he entered. As he walked towards the kitchen, he heard the sound of clapping. Biting his lip, he turned his head. Eames, grinning broadly, was applauding in the kitchen.

"Well done, Artie!" he said, clapping again as he settled himself on to a kitchen stool. "That was perfect!"

Arthur swallowed, feeling slightly sick from the brioche. "Glad you think so." He went to the sink, and poured himself a glass of water. Taking a sip, he felt his nausea subside. "Now I just have to tell Ariadne."

"Of course. That you told the press you want to marry her."

"No." Arthur glared at him. "I do want to marry her. But I wanted to tell her properly, not on the porch in my robe in front of a pack of baying supporters!" He gripped the sink. "And now...it'll be in the press. Our families will know, and think I'm doing this as a cheap publicity stunt!"

Eames looked at him. "You still can ask her properly! And everyone knows the press print a load of old rubbish!"

"EAMES!" Arthur shouted. "Sometimes, I think you're incredibly stupid!"

"Arthur!" Eames looked genuinely offended. "That's out of order! If I'm so stupid, how did I manage to get you into every catwalk show, on the cover of magazines, and movie offers? I even set up a meeting with that director about you being in a film, and you-"

"Oh, stop it!" Arthur shouted. "Just, stop it! I know! I know I should be grateful to you! I know I should thank you for the fact that I'm famous, and rich, rather than living off a basic wage and doing a normal job! I know I should thank you that I've spent ten years posing, wearing other people's clothes, being other people's fantasies, being everything to everyone except being myself! I do thank you Eames! There, I thank you!"

He swallowed, and turned to face the older man. Eames, his shoulders sagging, stood and looked at him, wide eyed. Arthur inhaled, steadied himself, and turned back to him.

"I'm sorry," he said, rubbing his face with his hand. "Eames, I-"

Eames looked at him. "Come here, you fool," he said, softly. Arthur did, and the older man pulled him into a hug.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should have listened to you. Listened a long time ago." He released his grip, and Arthur faced him. "But - we can work this out. I promise."

Arthur nodded. "I know. But this is why I'm bowing out. I can't handle this attention, because I don't deserve it."

"So let this show be your last one," Eames coaxed. "And then you can have a normal life, with Ariadne."

Arthur smiled. "I can."

"Is everything OK?"

The two men turned, to find Jules standing in the doorway, her face alternating between puzzlement and concern. "I heard...voices."

Arthur swallowed. "Just the press," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "Nothing to worry about."

"Really?" Jules raised an eyebrow. "Well, if thats the case, why did Ariadne push past me and Robert, and go and hide in her room?"

Arthur's face paled. "I-" He began to move forward. "I'll go and-"

"No," Jules interrupted, the slight edge in her voice catching the two men by surprise. "I'll go and talk to her." Turning, she left the kitchen.

* * *

Ariadne sat on the bed, staring down at her hands. She felt shaken, numb. Marriage? Was that what Arthur really wanted? Or was he merely using her to bait the press? She looked at her fingers, as though hoping that their movement would give her a clue.

Suddenly, she heard a soft knock. "Yes?"

Jules opened the door a crack. "Only me." She entered, shutting the door. "You ok?"

Ariadne shrugged. "So so." She swallowed, then unable to contain it, found the words rushing out. "Arthur on the porch...told the press he wanted to marry me."

Jules looked at her. "And you-"

"What if its just to make the press back off?" Ariadne interrupted. "What if he doesn't mean it? What if he's been using me all along? Claiming he wants a normal life, with someone who isn't made out of silicone...but what if he's lying?"

Jules shook her head. "I don't think he is. Come on, let's go downstairs."

Ariadne swallowed. "I don't know if I can face him."

* * *

Arthur rubbed his face with a towel, and looked at himself. He smiled - he was still in his robe, his hair was mussed - about as far from the object of perfection he'd been expected to be. But, he suddenly realised, he didn't care. And as he turned and saw Ariadne's pyjamas lying at the foot of the bed, realised that was behind him.

He set his jaw, left the room, and began to head towards the steps.

* * *

"You'll have to, eventually." Jules looked at her. "Don't start doubting him now. Do you think he would have done what he's done for Robert, if he wasn't a genuine guy? His world might be plastic, but he isn't."

Ariadne nodded. "You're right," she admitted. "I'm being unfair."

Jules smiled. "Come on. Let's go-"

As they opened the door, they came face to face with Arthur.

"Ariadne," he said, firmly. "We need to talk."

She nodded. "Yes. Lets."

**reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	64. Chapter 64

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. **

Ariadne looked at her fingers, then moved her face upwards, taking in Arthur. He swallowed, and reached for her hand.

Jules nodded. "I need to speak to Robert." Moving past Arthur, he walked in the room, and shut the door. Ariadne stood, and then met his eyes.

"I heard-" she swallowed, and felt the gentle pressure of his fingers increase on hers. "I heard what you said." She bit her lip, and turned away.

"What is it?" he asked, gently.

"You said that someone was special enough to want to marry her. Arthur...did you mean me?"

He paused, and pressed her fingers more tightly.

"Yes," he replied, simply. "I did."

She felt herself blush. "Its not the right time." As she looked at his face, she immediately wished she could call the words back. "I mean-"

"Ari, I didn't mean we have to get married now, in front of the press!" Arthur sounded appalled, and pulled her hand closer. "We do have things that we need to discuss, but as for spending the rest of my life with you...well, its a moot question."

She looked at him. "Please, don't use me."

Arthur shook his head. "I couldn't live with myself if I did." Drawing her closer, their lips met. Suddenly, both heard a shout. "ARTHUR!"

They broke apart, a wry smile appearing on Ariadne's face. "Guess Eames has the next stage of the plan," she commented.

Arthur shook his head. "I cannot wait for this last show. After that, I move to Paris, we get our place, and-" he bit his lip, carefully studying her face. "We start our lives together."

Ariadne leaned over, and kissed him. "Sounds wonderful. But first, you have to finish this life."

"I know." He nodded, and lifted her hand to his lips. "And I'm going to finish it properly."

"Arthur."

"Yes?"

Ariadne was smiling. "We can tell our friends, don't you agree?"

Arthur shook his head. "We can...after I've proposed properly to you. And I mean, properly." He looked at her. "I mean it. Diamonds, soft music, the two of us alone-"

"Arthur, it doesn't matter," Ariadne insisted.

"It doesnt?" He looked puzzled.

"Because you've already made me the happiest woman alive." She flushed. "Sorry, that was cliched."

Arthur shook his head. "No. It just confirms why I'm the happiest man."

* * *

Jules entered the kitchen, to find Robert perched on a stool. "Hey," she said, walking over and kissing him. "I think a-"

Suddenly, there was another bang on the door. Jules looked at Robert. "You or I?" he asked, biting his lip.

"Stay here," she ordered, her tone causing his lips to quirk. She walked to the door, and opened it.

Standing clustered around the porch were ten or eleven reporters, all waiting eagerly. Jules arched an eyebrow - they reminded her of a pack of wolves, waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting deer. She smiled, and waved. "Hi."

One of the journalists, a small, dark haired woman, scrutinised her. "Who are you?"

"Jules Girard," she informed her, politely. "I'm just stopping here for a few days." She noticed the woman scribbling her name down, on a pad.

"Ms Girard," a voice called out, "what is your connection to Arthur Ogilvie?"

Jules smiled again. "My connection is through Robert Fischer. I'm his girlfriend."

A hushed mutter went through the assembled group. "Well, maybe you could answer a question for us." A male journalist pushed his way to the front of the crowd, and directly faced Jules. She nodded. "Of course."

The man grinned. "Peter Browning claims that Robert Fischer is gaining weight steadily. Would you agree?"

Jules nodded. "Oh, he's huge. I'm amazed he can even still fit through the door! Do you realise I have to push him when he gets a little stuck? But now I've discovered that if I put cheesecake on the other side, he can still struggle his way through!"

The journalist cocked his head, and looked at Jules. "So, you're basically his feeder?" He shook his head. "Fischer is famous for being bone thin! Guess it didn't take him long to gorge, did it?"

Jules nodded, smirking. "Absolutely. Look out for him on a cult internet site soon!"

Turning, she slammed the door, causing the assembled journalists to immediately break into chatter. She headed back to the kitchen. Robert looked up. "Well?"

"Oh, I just told them that you're now getting wedged in the doorway," she informed him. Robert smirked. "Well, if you keep cooking the way you do-"

"Oh, I give you about fifty years before you get to that stage" she informed him. "You've gained what, 10lbs?"

He nodded. "About that."

"And you're still thin as a rail. Its the way you're built. But you don't look as though you're going to collapse anytime soon."

He smiled. "Thank you. But, according to Browning-"

"If he had the power, he'd have you on diet pills." She shook her head.

Robert raised an eyebrow. "He did. Remember?"

"Oh, of course." Jules blushed. "Sorry, I-"

He reached out, and grabbed her hand. "You have nothing to be sorry about," he said, gently. "If it weren't for you, I don't know where I'd be."

"Hospitalised. On a drip." She shook her head. "Or you'd be like Jared."

Robert shuddered. "No thanks."

Suddenly, Eames came in. "Jules!" He exclaimed. "You are a genius!"

"Thanks," she said, warily, still slightly distrustful of the older man. "Why?"

Eames was grinning. "Because you have given me an idea! Robert, hurry up, go and get dressed, I'll see if I can prise Arthur away from-"

"You don't have to prise me, Eames," Arthur interrupted, walking into the room. "I'm here. What is it?"

Eames looked at him. "Go and get dressed! We have to go and see Nash!"

"OK, ok," Arthur said, wearily. "I'll go and get dressed." Then he paused. "Why are you grinning like that, Eames?"

"I'll say," Jules commented. "Its disturbing."

Eames shook his head. "No, its perfectly logical. Jules has just given the press a load of quotes for them to feast on-"

Robert smirked. "About how I'm now clinically obese-"

"And it got me thinking. Fat suits."

"What?" Arthur's eyes bulged. "What did you just say?"

Eames' smile was broader than Lake Erie. "Fat suits. Get dressed. I'll explain when we arrive at Nash's studio, ok?"

**All reviews and readers appreciated, thank you!**


	65. Chapter 65

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

"Fat suits," Arthur repeated. He gazed at Eames. "Would you care to explain before we meet Nash?"

"No," Eames replied, and nodded. "Go on, get dressed! What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong?" Arthur repeated. "Eames, I have just had to do a press conference in my robe, expose my body to them, had to explain to my girlfriend that I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to marry her, and you ask what's wrong with me?"

"Oh, come on, stop being over sensitive," Eames wheedled. "As I said, this is war. Now, go and put some clothes on!"

Robert looked at Eames, almost suspiciously. "Do I have to get involved?"

"No," Eames replied, airily. "Not if you don't want to, but you don't want Browning spreading rumours about you again, do you?"

Robert cocked his head. "Did you hear what Jules told them?"

"I did," Eames agreed. "It was perfect! Could not have been better! Now, come on!"

Robert looked at him, stubbornly. "Only if I can bring Jules."

"And I'm only coming if I can bring Ariadne," Arthur added. Eames looked at them both, exasperated. "Honestly, you two are like children. Fine, bring them along." Turning, he walked off.

Robert looked at Arthur. "Fat suits?"

Arthur shook his head. "Let's hope there is method in this madness. Let's hope."

* * *

Browning bristled at the voice on the phone. "She said what?"

"I'm telling you, Mr Browning," an exquisitely polite voice informed him. "She stated, in front of all of us, that he was enormous, and having difficulty getting through doors."

"Well, then you print this - 'having spoken to his manager about this, Peter Browning confirmed that Robert had to be kept on a very strict diet. Mr Browning stated that Fischer has a very slow metabolism, and will simply become fatter everytime he eats normally.'"

"OK." The voice was clipped. "We don't have any pics-"

Browning smiled. "Haven't you people heard of photoshop? Find an old picture, and alter it. You know what I mean."

"OK, will do. What if he sues?"

Browning shrugged. "I have the key to his fortune. He won't do anything."

"You're the boss."

Browning smiled, cruelly. "Yes, I am."

As the reporter clicked off, he dialled another number. As he waited, he tapped his fingers impatiently. Finally, a female voice, thick with sleep, answered. "Yeah?"

"Summer," Browning said. "Good morning. Would you do me a favour?"

"What?"

"Oh, I'd be a little friendlier. You do want a prime position at the next big fashion show, don't you?"

"Oh, yes." Suddenly her tone was lighter, sweeter. "What do you want?"

"I want you to tell a story to the press. Tell them how Arthur Ogilvie broke your heart, called you fat, and made you diet. Trust me, you'll be rewarded."

Summer chuckled. "Anyone in mind I can tell it to?"

"Oh, yes. I have their number right here."

* * *

Arthur smiled as Ariadne's hand crept over his. Jules smirked, Robert tried to look out of the window. He was sitting in the front, next to Eames.

"Right, I'm just going to turn off here," the British man announced. He caught sight of Jules smirk. "You two in the back, come on. Its like having teenagers in the car!"

"Yes, Dad," Arthur deadpanned, and Ariadne giggled, leaning against him. Jules shook her head. "Robert do you think we'll ever get like this?"

Robert twisted his head. "Oh, probably." He smiled.

"Call me Dad again," Eames grumbled, "and you're walking back." He turned into the parking lot of a large, anonymous building. As he parked and turned off the ignition, the group looked at each other.

"Right," Eames began. "Nash is a good friend of mine, and very willing to help. He's an excellent designer."

Arthur nodded. "Take your word for it."

"Right, well let's go in, shall we?"

As they let themselves out, and approached the studio, Robert watched as Arthur gripped Ariadne's hand, firmly. Unconsciously, he moved forward, and took Jules' hand. She looked at him, surprised.

"I, um-" Robert stopped. "I-"

She nodded, and squeezed his fingers. Eames rang the bell, and the door opened, revealing a young, petite woman. "Hello?"

Eames grinned, broadly. "Eames. With Arthur, and Robert."

"Oh, yes!" She smiled, and took a step back. "Please come in! Nash is waiting for you!"

As they walked in, Ariadne noticed the narrow corridors, and rickety looking staircase. After two flights of steps, they entered a large room. The sides of it were notable for the rows of mannequins, a long trestle table at the back, and, Ariadne noticed, a slightly harrassed looking, yet wiry man, leaning over, sketching. His face was pulled into an expression of concentration.

"Nash?"

"Eames!" Smiling, he dropped his pen, and hurried over. "So good to see you! Arthur! Robert! And...who are these two gorgeous women?"

Arthur smiled. "My girlfriend." Robert looked at Jules. "And mine."

Nash smiled. "Well, this is perfect. I need female models for this show, and Eames, you have solved my problem!"

"Wait," Ariadne commented, puzzled. "You want us in your show?"

"Absolutely," Nash commented. "I need people who have chemistry for this!"

Arthur turned to Eames. "You knew this all along, didn't you?"

Eames looked innocent. "What, me? Set you up? How could you think that?"

"Anyway," Nash continued, "the idea I have- well, Eames told me about the hassle that you guys were getting, so the plan is this, one moment-"

He hurried off to a back room. Ariadne turned to Arthur. "Me, in a show?"

"Well, you are gorgeous," Jules commented.

Arthur looked at her, and took her hand. "Do you remember our earlier conversation?"

She looked at him. "You wouldn't-"

Arthur smiled. "Why not? What better way of showing everyone how happy we are?"

She looked taken aback. "Arthur, if you-" she broke off. Nash was returning, carrying two large flesh coloured masses. Jules choked.

"What are they?"

"Prosthetics," Nash replied. "These are the fat suits! My idea was, you two guys wear these under modified suits, and then, when the moment comes, you undress-"

"Down to what?" Arthur interrupted.

"Your underwear-"

"Underwear?" Robert choked. "You want me, on a catwalk, in my underwear?"

Jules looked at him. "I've seen you in your underwear."

Robert blinked. "Yes, but that's-" he stopped, turning scarlet. "I'm not in good enough shape!"

Jules hooked her arm around his waist. "We can fix that."

"Eames, what is the point of this?" Arthur demanded.

"Its simple!" Eames said. "To prove how you two are still the best looking men on the catwalk. And what a loss its going to be when you both leave."

Arthur shook his head. "A stripper. Thats what I'm reduced to. A stripper."

"Well, if you're unhappy," Nash faltered, "I can-"

Arthur looked at him. "No, I'll do it. I stripped for the press, I can do it now."

"Wonderful!" Nash beamed. "Wait until you see the clothes you wear, once you've stopped wearing these things." He nodded at the suits.

"Can't wait," Robert croaked, feebly.

Eames smiled happily. "Neither can I."

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you! I am going on holiday for a couple of weeks, will start writing again when I get back! Thank you for reading! **


	66. Chapter 66

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to Cletic Lioness. **

Arthur entered the house first, heading for the kitchen. Going to the refrigerator, he pulled out a pitcher of ice water. Putting a glass on the table, he poured one, and passed it to Ariadne. "Here."

She took it gratefully. Nash's design studio had been lacking in air conditioning. "Thank you."

He poured himself a glass, and as he settled it down, heard the front door close. Robert and Jules, without acknowledging anyone, walked upstairs. Eames entered the kitchen.

"Well," he said, jovially, "that went well."

Arthur arched an eyebrow. "I'm still going to be a stripper. Do I look like a cast member of Magic Mike?"

"No," Eames said, airily. "Not especially. But think about it! This is your – and Robert's chance – to show that you've still got it!"

Arthur rubbed his face, and took a swallow of water. "Eames. Did it occur to you that neither of us might be comfortable with this?"

Eames nodded. "Well, I did, but I thought-"

"You didn't," Arthur responded, a harsh edge creeping into his voice. "This is the problem. You never think!"

Eames looked at Arthur. "Arthur, I-"

"Robert has a serious problem," Arthur continued, ignoring the looks of astonishment on both Eames and Ariadne's faces. "How is this going to help him? Its public humiliation!"

"Oh, would you rather he went back to Browning?" Eames' face was creased in annoyance. "I wouldn't trust that man with a houseplant, let alone a human being. I heard him screaming at Robert once, so have you. Do you really think he'll be better off?!"

Arthur folded his arms. "I just don't think forcing him to expose his body will help, that's all."

Eames swallowed. "I'll talk to him. I'll-"

"No," Arthur interrupted. "I'll do it."

* * *

Robert paced the room, Jules watched him. Eventually, after an agonising pause, she spoke. "Robert, please. Calm down, its-"

"I can't do this!" he fretted, his tone fraught. "I can't go on stage, and then strip to my underwear! I don't even like you looking at me like that!"

Jules blinked, taken aback. Robert paused, and blushed. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I just feel so out of shape at the moment. I have no muscle tone at all!"

She got up, and put her arms around him. He leaned forward, and nuzzled her shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered.

"We can fix this," she said, drawing back from him. "Exercise. That's the key."

Robert blanched slightly. "Exercise?"

"Yes," she repeated, slightly stubbornly. "Exercise. Running, weights – that sort of thing."

"I don't-" he stopped. "I don't exercise."

She looked at him, increduously. "Then how did you-"

"Well, I didn't really need to be muscular," he explained. "I was hired because I was thin – that was the look that was in. I'm never going to look like Eames."

"Which is fine, because you're you." She pulled him close again. "But we can start by going for a job tomorrow. OK?"

Robert nodded. "OK."

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Robert stiffened slightly. "Yes?"

"Arthur."

"Oh!" Robert hurried to the door, and opened it. "Arthur, I-"

"Robert, listen," Arthur said quickly, moving inside the room. "If you don't feel comfortable doing this, you don't have to. Eames has acted on impulse, and if you-"

Jules moved closer and slipped her hand into Robert's. He squeezed her fingers. "Arthur. It will be fine."

The other man blinked. "Oh."

"Its just – I need to get some tone," he explained. "But, I can't let other people make me feel bad about myself for the rest of my life!"

Arthur began to exhale. "No, you can't," he said, evenly. "But this-"

"It will be fine," Robert insisted. He pulled Jules closer, which Arthur interpreted as a signal to leave. Turning, he left the room, closing the door.

* * *

"Well?" Eames asked. His eyes had caught Arthur's the moment he'd re-entered the kitchen. "How is he?"

Arthur shrugged. "He'll do it." He slumped at the table. "But Eames...if he gets jeered, it'll destroy him."

"Arthur." He looked up. "No, he won't be." Eames' voice was firm.

"How do you know?" he countered. The nagging irritation he'd felt towards Eames was not subsiding. "How-"

"ARTHUR!"

Both men jumped. Ariadne's voice had been loud, and also slightly scared. Frowning, Arthur slipped off his stool and hurried into the lounge, followed by Eames.

"What is it?" he asked, worried. She was sitting on the couch, clutching the TV remote, her face white. Arthur narrowed his eyes. She'd tuned into a talk show, and sitting on the couch, wearing a black dress Arthur thought inappropriate for the time of day, was Summer.

"Ari, what-"

"Listen!" she said, turning up the volume. Arthur sat down next to her, leaning forward.

"So Summer," the host asked, an attractive woman in her late forties, "you say that Arthur Ogilvie – who has been a fantasy for many women – is a chauvinistic bully?"

Summer nodded, looking tearful ."Yes."

"What sort of things did he do?"

She sniffled and reached for a tissue. "He told me I was fat." The audience gasped. "And he also would take me out for dinner, and tell me all I could have was salad!"

The host looked at her, sympathetically. "That must have been very hard."

"It was," Summer conceded, sniffling pathetically. "He told me that the only thing I could model for was KFC, as I was such a whale!"

The host rubbed her chin. "Well, this is certainly a different side to Arthur Ogilvie. But, surely he must have been nice at some point?"

Summer shook her head. "No. Not at all."

Arthur almost grabbed the remote from Ariadne, and switched it off. "How could she-" his voice was breathless with anger. "No way would I do that to a woman – any woman!"

Eames bit his lip. "Well, I-"

Suddenly, there was a knock on the front door.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	67. Chapter 67

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to The Angry Lioness. **

Arthur got up. "I'll get it." Opening the door, he blinked. Standing in front of him, clutching a large cardboard box, was a pizza delivery boy. His eyes widened as he took in Arthur.

"Oh, bonjour", the young man practically stammered. "Here is your order. Mr Robert Fischer?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Did Mr Fischer order something?"

"Um, yes." The young man offered the pizza. "That will be fifteen euros, please."

"One moment."

Arthur walked back into the kitchen, and looked at Eames and Ariadne. "There's a pizza delivery boy outside. Apparently, Robert ordered something."

Eames shrugged. "Maybe he did. He is trying to put weight on, after all."

"Jules wouldn't feed him pizza," Ariadne countered. "She's trying to get him to be healthy." She cast a worried look at Arthur. "Do you think that...?"

Arthur's mouth was set in a grim line. "I think I know exactly who sent this." Turning, he walked back to the front door. The pizza delivery boy was looking slightly forlorn, and tilting the box in his hand.

"Can I ask," Arthur said, politely, "who placed the order?"

The delivery boy's face scrunched up. "Sure." He pulled out a notebook of orders, carefully consulting it. "The order was placed by a Peter Browning."

Arthur nodded, his smile tight. "Thank you. Here-" he handed him a 20 Euro bill, and took the pizza box. "You'd better go. Keep the change."

He shut the door quickly, and headed into the kitchen. Wordlessly, he threw the box on the table. Eames reached over and flipped up the lid. "Mmm. Pepperoni."

Arthur shrugged. "Well, I paid for it, so we can eat it." He sank down onto the stool. "Browning sent it. First Summer, now him. Eames, can you cancel this fashion show? I think I'm going to head back to New York."

Eames stared at him. "What?"

"Look, I've had enough of this!" Arthur exploded. "You know I want out! I'm not going to stay here, and be humiliated, by-"

"But then you're just proving their point."

Arthur blinked. Ariadne's voice had cut in. He turned to her. "What?"

"Arthur, this is horrible," she admitted. "You're being slandered and you and Robert are being harassed. But if you go to New York now, aren't you proving that they're right? That you're too ashamed to be seen in public? That what Summer said about you is true?"

Arthur looked at her. "And so you agree with Eames - that me wearing a fat suit in public is going to be redeeming?!"

"No!" she protested. "But you don't have anything to be ashamed of!"

Arthur rubbed his face. "Yes, I know. Sorry. I'm sorry." He pulled her close. "I need to-"

"Relax." Eames interrupted. "You need to relax."

Ariadne nodded. "You do. So does Robert. I have an idea." She smiled at Arthur. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a shower?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed, slightly suspiciously. "Why? What are you planning?"

She smiled. "Just go upstairs." Leaning over, she kissed him on the cheek.

* * *

Arthur opened the shower cubicle and walked into the room, rubbing himself with the towel. As he walked past the mirror, he glanced in it, slightly critically.

He wasn't as thin as he'd been before he arrived in Paris, he decided. But, he ruminated, he'd needed to put on a few pounds.

_It doesn't matter what anyone thinks. Won't be my job to be looked at soon. _

Opening a drawer, he pulled out jeans, and a t-shirt. Just as he finished pulling the t-shirt over his head, there was a knock at the door. "Yes?"

"Its me," Robert's voice sounded. Arthur pulled the door open. "Come in. What is it?"

Robert, biting his lip, entered the room. "I just wondered...who was it at the door?" His expression was slightly uneasy. "The press?" Arthur looked at him, and realised that the slightly older man was still unprepared to deal with a confrontation. He shook his head. "No."

"Oh." Robert visibly relaxed.

"Pizza delivery." Arthur raised an eyebrow. "For you. From Browning."

"Oh, God."

"Thought so." Arthur ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it slightly tousled. "He just won't give up, will he?"

Robert smiled slightly. "Not until I either drop dead from starvation, or I can't get through the door." He looked at the other man. "I don't really feel comfortable with exposing myself on stage, but-"

"We can do it," Arthur interrupted. "We can. Its on our terms, not on theirs." He looked at him. "Ariadne told me a few things earlier. We don't do this, they've won. Its a way of-" Arthur swallowed. "Fighting back."

Robert nodded. "Yes. But I do wonder-" he broke off. "Should probably go downstairs."

Eames looked up as the two men entered the kitchen. Ariadne and Jules were smiling. Arthur raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Get an early night," Eames said. "Please. Tomorrow, we're going to the beach."

"What?"

"The beach," Eames repeated. "Big long sandy thing, Arthur. Next to the sea."

"Yes, I know, but the nearest beach is-"

"Two hours away by rail, Normandy Coast," Ariadne cut in.

Arthur blinked. "OK." He nodded. "Sounds great."

"It will be," Eames said, reassuringly.

* * *

Arthur swallowed as he and Ariadne began to walk down the small path to the beach. The train journey had felt interminable, and Robert and Jules, he noticed, had been holding hands for the entire journey. He'd felt nervous, and when Ariadne had touched his hand, jumped slightly.

"What is it?"

"I'm just-" Arthur looked at her. "After what Summer did, and Browning- is this such a good idea?"

She nodded. "It is. You need to get out of the city...and relax."

As they walked onto the soft, golden sand, Arthur did feel himself relax. Robert and Jules joined them, Eames running up behind. "Right, that spot over there," he said, pointing.

"Why?" Arthur asked, slightly irritably.

"To get some sun onto your skin! Honestly, you're so pale!"

"Well, I thought pale and interesting was in," Arthur retorted. With Ariadne's fingers intertwined in his, they began to walk towards the spot.

Jules and Robert where already there. Robert in the process of pulling his shirt off.

Arthur swallowed. "Hey. You look good." The sharp indentions of his ribs had started to vanish, and his stomach was no longer concave. Robert looked at himself. "Its taken getting used to."

Jules tapped his chest. "You look great. Come on! Let's go in the water!"

Ariadne took Arthur's hand. "Shall we join them?"

Arthur bit his lip. "I'm-"

"Ooh, look!" Eames interrupted. "Look whose coming!"

Arthur turned, and his heart sank. Walking onto the beach were a small group. Armed with cameras. "Press," he muttered, angrily. He glared at Eames. "You tipped them off!"

Eames shrugged. "You need to show them that you're healthy, and also rebuff what Summer said. Go in the water, let me talk to them first."

Arthur felt himself tugged along by Ariadne. Turning backwards and noting Eames approaching the reporters, he bit his lip.

"Oh, God," he heard Robert mutter.

"What is it?"

Robert nodded. "One of the photographers. Its Jared."

**Thank you for reading - please leave a review, it is appreciated!**


	68. Chapter 68

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur swallowed. "How pleasant." He looked again. "And he's brought a girlfriend."

Robert blinked. Standing, clutching onto Jared's arm, was Summer. Robert turned to Arthur. "I don't think-" he swallowed. "I'm not sure if I-"

Arthur looked at him. "Robert. I know. But if we leave...I don't want to give them the satisfaction." He raised an eyebrow. "Don't you?"

The other man bit his lip. "Well, I can see that...but I don't want this to turn into a game." He met Arthur's eyes. "I don't want this to turn into a case of 'we think we're better than you.'"

Arthur shook his head. "Robert. Trust me. Its not going to be like that. The girls are here, Eames seems to be relaxing already." He gestured over his shoulder. Robert blinked. The other man was taking off his shirt, exposing a muscular chest with an interesting web of tattoos. Robert tried to hide a grin.

"Well, he's in his element."

"I think he misses posing for the camera," Arthur quipped. "But when he was modelling, I think he missed beer, take-out, and ice cream more." He smiled. "But, look, he's getting their attention."

Robert turned his head. Two photographers were carefully following Eames down the beach. The older man didn't even bother to look at them as he continued walking down the sand.

"Well, the heat's off us..." Robert's voice trailed off. Jules appeared, clad in a stunning green bikini. Without looking round, she headed for the foaming surf, the water a sparkling turquoise. As she began to wade in, Robert blinked.

"I think," Arthur said, quietly, "its an invitation for you to join her."

He turned away, leaving Robert to make his decision.

* * *

Jules calmly strutted into the water. The coolness felt good against her skin, and she discreetly adjusted her bikini, pleased at how it flattered her skin tone. She threw her shoulders back, not caring if the photographers noticed.

Suddenly, she heard splashing, and felt arms locking around her waist. Smiling, she turned, only to have her eyes widen. Jared was standing behind her. "Well, hello again," the photographer smirked. "Remember me? We met at that club a while ago."

Furious, she pushed downwards on his arms, and walked away from him. "How could I forget?" she snapped. "You were such a charmer."

Jared nodded. "Oh, I am. But I have a question for you. What's a stunning woman like you doing with a past it loser like Fischer?" He raised an eyebrow.

Jules turned away. "Not interested."

* * *

Robert bit his lip, watching the scene unfold in front of him. He could tell from Jules' body language that she was uncomfortable, but also from Jared's he was enjoying it. A soft voice was heard at his elbow. "Looks like she found somebody else."

He turned, and his heart sank. Summer, wearing an ill fitting black bikini, was at his elbow. "Yes, she did. For the five seconds until I get in the water." Swallowing, he began to walk towards the surf.

"Robert." He stopped. "Robert, that's really no way to talk to me." He turned his head, and realised that she was hurrying after him. "You do realise that you are just making a fool of yourself. You are now Robert Fischer, fat has been." She smirked.

Robert turned to her. "Well, its better than being Summer Davey, egotistical b-"

His response was interrupted by a rush of water, and a screech. Taking a step back, he realised that Eames had moved in, and grabbed Summer round the waist, lifting her up. She screamed again, and tried to beat his shoulders.

"Let go of me you OAF!" She roared. Eames responded by clasping his arms more firmly around her waist.

"Oh, come on," he crooned. "I know you've been dreaming of this ever since we met! You only dated Arthur to get closer to me! Why didn't you just ask, Summer?!"

He strode past Robert, still holding the squealing woman. Turning, he winked at him. Feeling both relief and gratitude rush through him, Robert turned, and hurried to join Jules.

* * *

Ariadne chuckled as she watched the tableux in the water. "Never knew Eames wanted Summer!"

Arthur grinned. "Oh, he does. Preferably 3000 miles away." They both laughed, and he looked at her, carefully brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "I think everyone's occupied," he said, quietly. The photographers were busy, completely taken with the quintet in the water. "So..." he breathed, "we have the beach to ourselves."

Ariadne smiled. "Well. Want to build a sandcastle?"

Arthur leaned forward, and kissed her forehead. "Thought you'd never ask."

Linking fingers, they began to walk to a more secluded spot. Arthur looked at her, admiringly. She was wearing a light blue bathing suit, which showed off her fair skin.

"I didn't think," she mused as he helped her by starting to heap up sand, "that you'd be so excited by building a sandcastle!"

Arthur nodded. "Oh, I am. Trust me, days at the beach are few and far between when I was working." He sighed. "And then I was usually requested to stand on a surfboard, freezing."

She laughed. "Thought you'd enjoy surfing."

Arthur shook his head. "No chance. I can't even stand up on the board!"

They kept on piling the sand, Ariadne deftly patting it into piles. "We should ask Jules and Robert if they want to play volleyball or something," she mused. Suddenly, Arthur reached out, and touched her hand.

"Let's ask them later," he said, his voice slightly husky. "For now, I want to enjoy spending time with you." He gently touched her cheek. "After all, Eames is determined to get on with this fashion show after today."

* * *

Jules watched as Eames strode away with Summer. Jared's jaw dropped slightly. "Not going to her rescue?" she asked. Jared blinked. "Well, I-"

"Jared, I thought you and Summer were a couple, and you're just going to let Eames waltz in like that?" she shook her head. "Although, its easy to see why she might prefer Eames to someone like you!"

Jared glared at her. "Why you-"

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting?" Robert strode in, and hooked an arm around Jules' waist. "Nice to see you, Jared."

The photographer glared. "Fischer. Nice to see a lot more of you!"

Robert ignored the snideness. "Well, Jared, get this - the heroin chic look is so 1990s." Leaning in, he kissed Jules, and she reciprocated.

"JARED!" Summer screamed. Eames had deposited her on the beach, and was tickiling her. "COME HERE NOW!"

Robert smirked. "Looks like she's tugged your leash."

Jared went red with fury. "I won't respond to that." Turning, he slunk off. Robert turned back to Jules. "Well?"

Grinning, she tugged his arm, causing him to yelp as a wave hit his face. "I need a swim. Come on!"

Unhesitatingly, he let himself be pulled in, allowing the waves to splash his face. Smiling, he felt relaxed. More relaxed than for a long time.

* * *

"Eames!" Summer shrieked. "Get off me!"

Eames turned, noticing Jared heading towards them. "Of course." He stood up, brushing sand off himself. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but you're not really my type, I've discovered."

She glared at him. "Meaning?"

The older man shrugged. "Put it this way. Eat a sandwich every now and again." He looked at her. "And the next time you want to insinuate that Arthur is an abusive mysogynist, you might want to be more careful. If another word comes out of your mouth in the earshot of a journalist, with the intention of slandering Arthur, or Robert, or their partners, do you want to know what I'll do?"

Dumbstruck, she nodded.

"I'll be coming round to your apartment, tying you to a chair, and feeding you chocolate mousse. All day." He nodded, noting her mouth falling open. "And if you think I'm joking-" his eyes flashed- "then you just try it. Understand?! "

Without pausing to notice her reaction, he began heading back up to the beach.

* * *

****"Robert!" One of the other photographers was shouting. "Robert, is this a serious romance?"

Robert shrugged. "Ignore them," he whispered. Pulling Jules towards him, their lips met in a kiss.

* * *

Ariadne smiled as she watched Jules and Robert. "They're so happy," she observed. Arthur nodded. "Agreed."

He swallowed, and turned to her. "Ari."

"Yes?"

He paused. The combination of the sun, and the gentle, rhythmic crashing of the waves was making a perfect setting. "Ari, I know I said I'd ask when the time is right. And I think it is."

She paused, her hands stiffening as they attempted to shape the sand. "Arthur...?"

"Ariadne will you..." he paused. "Will you marry me?"

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	69. Chapter 69

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules - she belongs to The Angry Lioness. **

Ariadne stared at Arthur, stunned. He swallowed, noting the blush rising to her cheeks.

"Ari," he repeated, trying to keep his voice calm, despite his surging emotions. "Will you marr-"

Suddenly, he was drenched. Coughing and spluttering, his mouth was filled with sea water. He blinked, trying to rub the salt out of his eyes. "What the-"

"Oh, sorry," came a familiar, and un-apologetic voice. "But the whole point of this was to try and let your hair down, Arthur, and you've been-"

Arthur looked down at himself. He was soaked. His t-shirt, which he was wearing modestly over his swimming shorts, was clinging to his torso. His hair was hanging down into his eyes.

"Eames," he said, through gritted teeth. "Eames, I could-"

"Arthur!" Ariadne interrupted. "Take that shirt off!"

Before he could stop her, she was grabbing at the bottom of his shirt, tugging it up. He heard a snort of laughter, and realised Eames was drinking in the whole scene, and savouring every moment.

"That's it, Ariadne!" He grinned. "Skin a rabbit!"

Arthur realised he had no choice, and raised his arms. She pulled the t-shirt up and over his head, and took a step back. His toned upper body was visible.

"Now," Eames hissed, "get over there!"

Arthur blinked, frowning. The photographers were closing in. Biting his lip, he looked at Ariadne, who slipped her fingers into his. "Come on."

As they walked down the beach, his mind was churning. Eames had interrupted her, and now he was beginning to regret ever asking her. He shook his head. There was never a quiet moment, never any peace.

_When did my life turn into this...soap opera?_

Arthur frowned. Ever since he'd arrived in Paris, on an alleged vacation, complications and drama had ensued. He'd hidden his career from Ariadne, then been forced into admitting it. He'd tried to help Robert, which had resulted in more people entering his life, and further problems. Now, he was on a beach, assuming he'd be enjoying some much needed relaxation, only to find it had inadvertantly turned into a photo opportunity.

And the question he'd been building courage to ask, the question he desperately wanted an answer to, had dissipated in a bucket of salt water.

He glared at Eames. All the day was doing was causing more concrete evidence to form that he was better off leaving this chapter of his life behind him.

A nice apartment. A job with normal hours, and normal people. Where no-one cares if I eat junk, get spots, or get fat.

"Arthur?" He blinked. Ariadne was looking at him. "Are you...all right?"

His shoulders sagged. It was not what he wanted to hear. You've gone and blown it. She'll think you're clingy and possessive and once you leave Paris, she won't be coming with you.

"I'm great," he snapped, without thinking. Ariadne bit her lip. "Arthur...what you asked me, earlier...can we...talk about it later?"

He smiled at her. It was not the response he wanted, or was hoping for, but it did help dispell his growing discomfort. "Of course," he said, nodding. He swallowed. "It wasn't appropriate of me to put you on the spot...ouch!"

He stopped, blinking, and rubbed his scalp. An inflatable ball had just hit him on the head. He looked round. "Who...what?"

"Oh, sorry," Jules called. She ran up to the others, and scooped it up. She smiled apologetically at Arthur. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I didn't mean for that to happen. Still, you guys want to play volleyball?"

Arthur felt a sudden surge of annoyance. The day was turning into a nightmare. "Well, I-"

"Yes!" Ariadne interrupted. "Us against you two?"

Arthur blinked. "What about Eames?"

Ariadne smiled. "I think he's enjoying himself."

Arthur turned. Eames had wandered away from the group, and had managed to catch the attention of two attractive women, further up the beach. He shook his head. The older man had ensured that his swimming shorts clung to his legs, and was also turning himself to ensure they caught the best possible view of his tattoos.

"I think Eames wants some time to himself," Arthur told her. Sighing, he moved further up the beach, noting that Robert and Jules had already drawn a line in the sand. Jules smiled as they approached. Robert, he noted, had got himself soaked, but was smiling. He also noticed that Robert's formerly alabaster pale skin, was starting to take on a decidedly pink colouring.

"Oh, babe, I think you're getting burned." Jules immediately reached down into a tote bag near her feet. "Here." Before the other man could move, she was gently rubbing sunblock into his shoulders.

Ariadne nudged Arthur. "Want some?" She looked at him. "Your back is a little red."

"Well, if you-" Arthur paused. "Yes, please do."

Ariadne smiled as she retrieved the bottle from Jules, and began to massage the cream into Arthur's back. He sighed gently. The pressure of her hands on his muscles felt good, and he began to relax under her touch.

"Is that good?" she whispered.

"Oh, yes," he whispered.

Suddenly, he heard a click. Looking up, he saw Jared, grinning maliciously and pulling a camera away from his face. "Way to go, Ogilvie!" he jeered. "That'll be in the tabloids tomorrow!"

Arthur felt himself stiffen, and yelped as Ariadne's hands hit a knot of muscle. "Hey, its ok!" she whispered. She turned to face him. "Don't let him get to you," she whispered.

Arthur's lips tightened. "Sorry, but I'm here, with you, I thought we'd have a relaxing day, and-"

"We will," she whispered. "Come on, let's play."

Arthur shook his head, and turned to face Jules and Robert. The redhead was holding the ball, and smiling. "Ready?" she called. "Let's go!"

Arthur took a step back as the ball sailed over the imaginary net, and tried to strike it. He missed by an inch, causing Ariadne to leap across and volley it back. Robert, moving with speed, retrieved it. It sailed back, and Arthur narrowly missed it again, watching as it sailed past him to hit the sand. He gritted his teeth. Robert, he noticed, moved with an easy athleticism, and had no problems in retrieving.

He picked the ball up, and punched it into the air. Jules retaliated, and Arthur managed to send it sailing back across the net. Robert returned it, and Ariadne punched it back. Arthur began to relax. He was getting into the rhythm of the game.

"Oh, Arthur!" he heard a jeering voice. "Is all that extra flab you're carrying weighing you down?!"

Arthur turned. Jared was standing near them, still brandishing his camera. He was also shirtless, exposing a skinny torso covered with mismatched tattoos. He was sniggering. "Maybe its time you went on a diet!"

"Maybe," Jules called out, "its time you fattened up!"

Jared froze. "What?" he snapped. He glared at Jules.

She shrugged. "Just saying, you look as if you could do with a decent meal. Or ten. You can't live on cocaine forever!"

He scowled. "Well, seeing as you hang out with these two fat boys, maybe your perspective is a little warped!" He turned to Ariadne. "What about you, sweetheart? Seeing as Arthur's getting fat and lazy, maybe its time you traded him in for a better model!"

Before Arthur could move, Jared had strode across to Ariadne, and was trying to wind his hands round her. She pulled back, and slapped him hard, across the face. He blinked, and pulled back, shocked.

"Don't you dare!" she snapped, her voice throbbing with anger. "Don't you even dare! You don't compare to Arthur! You really think I'd leave someone who is kind, decent, and generous, for a moron like you?!"

Arthur bit his lip, trying to stifle astonished laughter. Jared, whose face was slowly turning white, was also bearing the scarlet imprint of her hand.

"You know what?" she practically shouted. "I don't care if Arthur weighs 500lbs! I'm marrying him!"

Stunned, Jules and Robert stared at her, whilst Jared appeared to shrink. Arthur, momentarily shocked, walked up to her, and took her hands. "You mean it?" he asked, hardly daring to hope.

She nodded. "I mean it." Her tone was sincere, and he felt himself falling deeply into her dark brown eyes. "I want to marry you, Arthur."

He nodded, his eyes shining with happiness. "Ari - I-" he began to grin. "Thank you." He traced a finger down her cheek. "But I don't think you'd want me at 500lbs. I'd be...large."

Ariadne looked at him. "Arthur," she said, firmly, "you'd still be you. And I love _you_."

He felt as though his heart would burst. Leaning down, their lips met in a deep kiss.

"Hey," came a voice. Breaking apart, they turned. A dripping wet Eames was approaching, an attractive brunette tucked under his arm.

"Sorry about that," he said, breezily. "Got distracted." He winked at his companion, then turned back to Arthur.

"Now," he said, finally. "Have I missed anything?"

**Please review - it is appreciated!**


	70. Chapter 70

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to The Angry Lioness. **

"You're what?!"

Arthur smiled patiently. "You heard," he replied, his tone polite. "I'm getting married. To Ariadne."

Eames shook his head. "Oh, Arthur. Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. You should have thought about it more carefully." He took a sip of coffee. "You need to say these things at the right time. Create a maximum impact."

Arthur rubbed his forehead. "Eames. I am in love. I want to get married. I asked Ariadne, she said yes, and its no-one else's business. I wish I didn't even have to tell you."

Eames glared at him. "How wounding." He swallowed the last of his espresso, and placed the tiny cup on its saucer. "Right, come on. We need to go and see Nash. Robert!"

The other man wandered out of the kitchen. "Hmmm?"

"Come on. Fashion show." Eames looked at Arthur. "That includes you, Romeo. Now!"

* * *

"So, when do you think you will marry him?"

Ariadne looked down into her glass of water. She and Jules had excused themselves and gone for a walk. She sighed, picking up the glass. "I don't know," she admitted. "Arthur's about to end a career, and start a new one, and I-" she shook her head. "All I do know, is he wants to get married in Paris." She smiled. "And I'll wait until we're both settled, but its official. We'll be getting married."

Jules reached for her iced tea. "Still. Its great," she commented. "You and Arthur - you are perfect together." She smiled. "I'll cater for the party. With a chocolate fountain. Just to really upset the fashionistas."

Ariadne smiled cheered by Jules' confidence in her relationship. "Thank you. But what about...you and Robert?"

Jules bit her lip, and almost avoided her best friend's eyes. "I don't know," she admitted. "I do...care about him. A lot. In fact, I do love him. But...what if he's only grateful to me? Grateful to all of us?"

Ariadne blinked. "I don't-"

"Ari, its not a scenario I haven't thought of." The red head smiled tiredly as she reached for her glass. "When I met Robert, he was in a bad place. I helped him...its easy to confuse gratefulness with love." She shook her head. "Besides, why would a top male model want to stay with a chef?"

Ariadne blinked, then started to smile. "I think you answered your own question with that line," she teased. Jules blinked, and began to laugh.

"True," she said, nodding. "I think I'm the best cook he's ever encountered."

Ariadne blinked. "And also the most honest."

Jules nodded. "Yes."

"And also the most attractive." Jules blushed. "I mean it. Besides, I've seen the way he looks at you." She smiled. "Its of love, believe me."

She bit her lip. "I believe you, but what if...what if he only wants to keep a relationship going because he's scared of confronting things on his own?"

Ariadne shook her head. "Talk to him. Please."

The redhead nodded. "I'll try to." She rubbed her forehead. "Once they get back from this latest scheme."

* * *

"Right." Nash looked at Arthur. "Good to see you! First of all, I need you to go behind that screen-" he pointed at a large white silk screen standing in the middle of the room - "and put on what you find there. You may, uh, want to take a few things off first. In fact, I'll help you, ok?"

Arthur blinked, feeling slightly alarmed. "What?"

"No, don't worry!" Nash said, smiling. "This is all about...what we're doing for the show, ok?"

Sighing heavily, Arthur walked behind the screen. He blinked, and looked down. At his feet, was a fat suit. Gritting his teeth, he picked up the flesh coloured object, and began to pull it on. Fake arms went over his own, and he realised he needed assistance in fastening it at the back. "Nash!"

"Coming!" With hurried movements, the designer began to swiftly fasten it. Arthur swallowed, feeling slightly ridiculous. He looked down, and blinked.

"I can't see my feet!"

"Er, no, sorry about that," Nash said, apologetically. "I mean, this isn't as big as I could have made it - I wanted it to look realistic. With clothes on..." his voice trailed off.

"Clothes on?" Arthur repeated. "What clothes?" He blinked as Nash held up a pair of jeans, and a t-shirt. "I have to wear those?!"

"Well, these will fit," Nash replied, smiling. "Here."

Arthur picked up the jeans, and began to pull them on. "You could fit two of me in these," he muttered, but to his astonishment, discovered that over his suit, he could barely button them up. He pulled on the t-shirt, and realised it was tight.

"OK," Eames called. "Show us!"

Feeling embarrassed, Arthur walked from out behind the screen. Robert's jaw dropped. Eames grinned.

"Well, Artie!" He said, unable to stop himself from grinning. "You look so...rotund! Portly! In fact, you look exactly how you'll look after a few years of married life, I bet!"

At this, Robert started to smile. Nash shook his head. "You look great," he said, sincerely. "You look...cuddly."

Arthur wagged his finger at Eames. "I'll get you for this," he hissed. Eames blinked. "What's the problem? We all know that you're really as thin as a rake - give or take a few croissants."

"Yes, but-" Arthur swallowed. "Without clothes, this didn't look like me. Now, it does look like me. I look as fat the press has been claiming I am!"

"Yes, and you're taking yourself down a catwalk like that!" Eames insisted. "The audience will be shocked, but then you take off the clothes, and the suit, and we see you in your underwear..."

Arthur covered his eyes. "Eames. Stop talking. How am I going to get myself down a catwalk? I can't even see my feet! Can't you just roll me down it?!"

Eames brightened. "That is a brilliant idea!"

"No!" Nash almost shouted. "Think of the clothes, Arthur!"

Arthur sighed. "If you say so."

"Come on!" Eames shouted, impatiently. "We're all going out tonight. Celebrating!"

The younger man looked at Eames, and shrugged. _Another half hour to go. _

* * *

"So, how did it go?" Ariadne asked. She and Arthur were alone in the kitchen. Arthur sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Don't ask. Me, in all my fat suit glory. The fact I might be seen as mocking obesity by just wearing it has not occurred to Eames." He bit his lip.

She shook her head. "I think you'll just be showing that weight can be attractive." She touched his face. "Really."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Wait until you see me in it."

She laughed. "I can't wait." Robert entered. "Hey. Arthur, you really didn't look that bad..."

Arthur shook his head. "Are you going to be ok with this?" he asked, carefully. "I mean-"

Robert nodded. "I can't let it control me all my life. Especially as..." he paused. "I want Jules to move in with me, and not have her living with me and an illness."

Ariadne blinked, and looked at Arthur. "Have you asked her?" the other man commented. Robert shook his head. "No, I haven't, I-"

"Its allright," Jules commented, entering the room. "I overheard."

Robert turned to her. "And your answer?"

Jules paused, the rest of the group waiting for her to speak. Finally, she looked at him.

"Robert, I need to talk to you. Alone."

All** reviews and readers appreciated, thank you!**


	71. Chapter 71

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Robert swallowed. "Jules, I-"

"Please." Her tone was gentle, and concillatory. "Come on. Let's go for a walk."

Before he could speak, she took his hand, and began to lead him away. Arthur, biting his lip, watched them go. Ariadne shook her head. "They'll be all right." She turned back to the salad she was chopping.

"Here. Let me help you." Before she could protest, Arthur had taken the knife from her hand, and started deftly slicing lettuce. She watched, noting the quick, easy movements. He turned, smiling. "This will be a feature of our lives," he said, his tone half-teasing. "Me, helping in the kitchen."

She nodded. "Good. I'm not marrying someone who expects me to wait on him." He raised an eyebrow. "Except on special occasions. Like your birthday."

He nodded. "I can live with that." He turned his attention back to the salad, then put the knife down. "What is it?" his tone was searching.

"Its just..." she bit her lip. "We're going to get married. But, Arthur...what if you...?"

"What if I what?"

She stopped, unable to think of how to articulate her thoughts. Arthur put the knife down, and walked over to her, laying his hand on her cheek. "What is it?"

"I just...what if you get bored?" she blurted out. "Bored of being with...me?"

* * *

Jules and Robert seated themselves at a small cafe. A waitress approached them, smiling. "What can I get you?" she asked, in French.

Jules nodded. "Cappuccino, please." Robert caught her eye. "Yes, the same, thank you."

He waited until she'd taken their order, then turned to Jules. "What - what do you need to talk to me about?"

"Its about what you said," she responded, deciding not to bother with pre-amble. "About wanting us to move in together. Do you mean it?"

"Yes," Robert said, nodding. "I do. I do mean it. Jules, you-"

"What if this is just because...you're grateful to me?" she interrupted, trying to keep her tone calm. "What if its because I-"

"Grateful?" He swallowed. "I'm grateful to you?"

"Robert, when we met you were sick. Very sick." She fell silent as the shadow of the waitress appeared, bearing two small cups. After a mutter of thanks, the cups were dispersed, and she left. Jules swallowed, focusing on the creamy liquid. As she looked up, she noticed that Robert's complexion was slowly changing from white to a pale pink. "You were in hospital, you'd collapsed. You were underweight and not eating. I-"

"And you came in and saved me," Robert said. Jules looked up, feeling slightly alarmed. His tone was almost mocking. She frowned. "Robert, I didn't mean that. I meant-"

"No, its what it sounded like." His eyes had narrowed. "There I was, helpless and weak, and you came in, and you made me see the light."

Jules shook her head. "Robert, why are you being like this? I'm only saying-"

"No, I'm not being like anything." His voice was terse, angry. "Why are you being like this? Am I one of several men who've asked you to move in with them this week? Is that why you're sitting here now, trying to make me feel small for doing it?"

"Robert, stop it!" Jules hissed. Looking at him, she began to wonder if the man she'd begun to know over the last few weeks had simply been a front. The selfish man that was infamous in the media was beginning to re-assert himself. She shuddered.

"I take it that means no." He smirked. "So, I'm the first offer you've had, and I'm not good enough, is that what you're saying? Don't you get it? I'm Robert Fischer, billionaire heir and model, and you're just an unknown chef!"

Jules shook her head. "Yes, Robert Fischer. Spoiled brat." She slumped in her seat. "But, Robert-"

"No, its fine," he snapped, pushing his chair back and standing up. "I'm sure there are a few others I could call. See you later."

Jules sat open mouthed as Robert turned his back, and began to walk away from her.

* * *

"Bored?" Arthur repeated. "How could I be...bored?" He shook his head. "Ari, I-"

"Well, you're lifestyle was so...glamorous," she said, almost feebly. "And with me it will be normal - work, household chores, that kind of thing."

"Its what I want," Arthur said, shaking his head. "Ariadne, do you think I want to go back to that life? Being treated like a choice cut of prime steak? Having women throw themselves at me because they think I look good in a suit?"

"Well, you do," she said, blushing. "But you look better in jeans."

"And that's what its going to be like. You, me, normality. Its what we need." Arthur opened his arms, and pulled her close.

Suddenly, they heard the front door open, and footsteps enter. They both stayed silent in the kitchen as they heard an upstairs door close.

Arthur sighed. "What is it?" Ariadne pressed.

Arthur pulled her close. "I think we might be the only happy couple."

Ariadne bit her lip. "Let me see."

* * *

"Robert?"

Robert paused, trying to control his breathing. He focused on the owner of the voice. "Eames," he said, unenthusiastically. "Excuse me."

"Hey." Eames held out an arm. "Not so fast. Where are you off to?"

Robert shrugged. "Not sure." He looked at the other man. "Why are you out?"

"Fancied a walk." He grinned. "And I think the happy couple needed some alone time."

"Oh." Robert looked deflated. "Of course."

"What is it?" Eames pressed. Robert swallowed. "I think...Jules and I just broke up." He sniffed. "I'm...stupid."

Eames looked sympathetic. "You can work it out."

"No, we can't." Robert shook his head. "I took a few things...the wrong way. I am grateful to her - grateful that she didn't give up on me, but I do care about her, and-"

Eames nodded. "I know you do. Come on."

* * *

"Jules, it will be-" Ariadne stopped. The redhead turned and looked at her. "I know." She blew her nose. "I think I overreacted, he overreacted, but-"

"What?"

"I do feel that Robert thinks...I'm not good enough for him. You should have heard him. He's a model, billionaire - and he's right, I am just a chef."

Ariadne shook her head. "Jules, no. You can't think like that, don't-"

She stopped. Leaning on her shoulder, Jules had begun to cry.

* * *

"I could have died." Robert looked at Eames. "And it was thanks to all of you that I didn't. I-"

"Well, you made the choice," Eames interrupted. "You wanted to recover."

"Yeah." Robert grinned wryly. "I couldn't continue like that. Hating myself, wishing I were dead..." he rubbed his face. "I needed to change-"

"And do you love her?"

"Yes." He shrugged. "I just didn't like the way she-" he stopped. His cellphone was ringing. Pulling it out, he answered. "Hello?"

"Robert? Arthur."

"What?" Robert blinked. "What is it?"

"Get back here." Arthur's voice was tense. "Jules has gone."

* * *

Arthur sighed as he clicked off. Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door. He muttered irritably. "Coming!"

As he walked to the door, he blinked. A flashbulb had just popped. Steeling himself, he opened the door. Press.

"Mr Ogilvie!" One reporter called out. "Rumour has it you're getting married!"

Arthur gritted his teeth. "Is it important? There are other things going on in the world!"

"But what's she like?" the reporter pressed. "Is it a model?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. She's more beautiful than that. Believe me."

Before the reporter could respond, Arthur slammed the door in their faces.

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	72. Chapter 72

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to Celtic Lioness. **

Arthur leaned against the door, rubbing his face. The reporter, undeterred, was banging on the door.

Furious, he opened it. "Yes?" he practically spat in the other man's face. The reporter blinked.

"Listen, I think you ought to realise. There are a lot of rumours circulating about you at the moment." The journalist's face was smug, noting Arthur's slight flicker of discomfort. "Perhaps, you'd like to talk about it?"

"No need." Arthur shook his head. "Excuse me." Smiling tightly, he closed the door.

"Arthur?" Ariadne's face was pale, and worried. "Another journalist?"

"Yes." Arthur sighed. "And it doesn't matter. Did Jules say where she was going?"

Ariadne looked at him, and her eyes filled with tears. "She's going back to the States for a bit. Said she had some leave owed at work, and a couple of friends out there she can stay with."

"Oh." Arthur's face fell. "I saw her suitcase...assumed she was going back to the apartment." He swallowed. "But she's- leaving the country?"

Ariadne shook her head. "She said she was going to the airport. Hoped that they could have her on a plane as a standbye." She looked at Arthur, her lip quivering. "Oh, Art-"

He took a step forward, and pulled her close. As he held her, he closed his eyes, wishing he could pull them both out of this nightmare, for good.

* * *

Jules slumped in the back of the cab, waiting for the approach of the airport. She glanced at her luggage - a small case, and her shoulder bag. She'd requested she return to the apartment first to pick up her passport, but her intention was to get on the first available plane back to the States. To Seattle.

She rubbed her forehead. She needed time away, time to think. Robert...she closed her eyes.

"I tried," she muttered. "I failed."

As the cab swung into the main road to the airport, she felt her eyes clouding with tears.

* * *

"I hope she'll come back," Ariadne whispered. "I want her to be my maid of honour." She looked at Arthur. "Is that ok with you?"

He nodded, smoothing a lock of hair away from her face. "She will be. We have to-"

There was the sound of a key scraping in the lock, and he bit his lip. "They're back. OK?" As he began to loosen his grip, he heard Eames' call. "Arthur?"

"In here!" Arthur called back. Robert and Eames entered the room, the younger man looking pale, and slightly shaken. "Jules...she's-"

"Probably stepping onto a plane right now," Arthur responded, tightly. "She's intending to head back to the States." He looked at him. "If you've got any sense, here are the car keys." He picked them up, and threw them in an arc, nearly hitting Robert in the shoulder. "Go and find her."

Robert looked at him, his jaw dropping slightly. "Arthur, I-"

"Stop it!" Arthur shouted. "Just stop thinking of yourself, for once in your life! This is the woman who you love! You know that! I know that! Stop deluding yourself! You have a chance to be happy, finally! And you act like you're too good for her?! Get over yourself, please!"

He turned away, his breathing ragged, gripping the side of the sink. He heard footsteps shuffling away, followed by a door slamming. As he looked round, he saw Eames' mouth open, and he shook his head.

"Don't, just don't." He snapped. "It had to be said."

"Maybe," Eames said, quietly. "But did you have to be so brutal?"

"Why are we tip toeing round him?" Arthur snapped. "He loves her, she loves him. Its pride, that's all!"

"Then why are you slamming the door in the faces of reporters?" Eames snapped. "Why are you so ashamed to tell the world that you're happy?"

"This is not the same and you know it!"

"Oh, stop lying, for God's sake!" Eames shouted back. "You talk about Robert throwing things in your face, what about the way you treat me?!"

A silence fell on the room. Arthur looked at Eames, his eyes narrowing. "You've got five seconds to explain that crack, Eames!"

"Allright, I will," Eames said, his face scarlet. "I have stuck up for you more than I care to count! Do you remember that fashion show you agreed to do for Valentine Howard? She told me you needed to lose 15lbs! And do you remember what I did?"

Arthur swallowed. "You booked me for Lucia Gary instead." He blinked. "You were protecting me, huh?"

"Course I was." Eames sniffed. "Arthur, you don't believe me, but I do have your best interests at heart. I didn't want you turning into a skeleton. I knew how sickly Robert was before you did. I used to manage him."

Arthur's eyes widened. "What? But that must have been-"

"A year before I managed you." Eames sank down onto a stool. "I found him, in the bathroom. Vomiting. I told him to get some help."

"What did he do?" Arthur asked, shaken.

"He fired me." Eames looked at Arthur, and smiled wryly. "Can't say I was surprised." He rubbed his forehead. "At least you're healthy. Sensible."

Arthur shook his head. "So you tried to help Robert, and...it didn't work."

"No." Eames swallowed. "But, Arth

ur, please. Stop letting your past get to you. Do yourself a favour."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Go on a chat show tonight?"

"You're unbelievable."

"No, just honest."

"You should do it," Ariadne broke in. Arthur looked at her. "What?"

"Arthur, you should do this. Make it clear what your view is now." She nodded. "This is your chance to break away from this, isn't it?"

Arthur swallowed. "If you think so."

* * *

Jules sighed and looked up at the boards. She was, she ruminated, lucky - a seat had been available on the 1.30pm flight to New York. She could spend the night in the city and then catch an internal to Seattle.

She checked her cellphone. No messages. Suddenly, a message came over the tannoy.

"Final boarding for New York."

Sighing, she picked up her boarding pass, and passport, and started to walk towards the gate.

* * *

Arthur swallowed as he entered the backstage area. The assistant smiled at him. "Wardrobe will be with you in a minute. So will make up."

Arthur nodded. "Thank you." Stiffening slightly, he began to wish that Eames and Ariadne had not convinced him to do this. It felt strange, unnatural - being dressed up like a doll. He also wondered how Eames had persuaded an American TV host to suddenly appear in Paris.

"He planned it," he muttered under his breath. Turning, he noticed the dresser had arrived, and smiled at her. His cellphone bleeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

_You'll be great. A xxx_

Smiling, he put it back in his pocket.

* * *

Robert hurried into the airport, biting his lip. He'd left for the airport an estimated forty minutes after Jules - it wasn't possible that she'd already left.

Suddenly, he stopped, dead.

He had no idea where she was.

None at all.

Sinking onto a seat in the main entrance, Robert let his tears begin to flow.

* * *

"Can I get you something to drink?"

Jules blinked, and looked up into the face of the flight attendant. "Um, no, thanks."

Nodding, the older woman began to walk away. Jules swallowed, and looked at the door. It was not yet sealed. Settling into her seat, she closed her eyes.

* * *

"Ready?"

Arthur nodded. The light blinked, and suddenly, he was sitting in front of a studio audience. He swallowed. The suit fitted him well, but the make up felt like an irritant on his skin. He frowned slightly, causing one of the cameramen to shake his head.

The host looked at him, and smiled.

"Welcome Arthur," she said, a purr almost in her voice. "Good to see you! You disappeared out of the public eye for a while. Any particular reason?"

Arthur, his mind going blank, blinked.

* * *

Eames shook his head. "Come on," he muttered. "You can do better than this!"

Ariadne, glaring at him, bit her lip. The couch had never seemed so uncomfortable.

* * *

Robert waited. An hour had passed, and the realisation was dawning that she had gone. Swallowing, he began to get to his feet. The crowd was dispersing, and he realised he was becoming conspicuous.

"Robert?"

He blinked in surprise. Turning his head, he looked at the owner of the voice.

"Jules?"

She nodded, tears filling her eyes. "I was on the plane...going to New York, but then thought if I did, I'd probably never see you again." She swallowed. "I thought I could come back to the house, try and find you-"

He looked at her. "Arthur told me some home truths," he admitted, shakily. "I- would have followed you. Does that make me a stalker?"

She shook her head, and fell into his arms. "No. Just someone I love."

Robert swallowed. "Ditto. Besides, our best friends are getting married." He looked at her. "Figure we should help out."

Jules, nodding, let him coil his arms around her, reciprocating his touch.

* * *

"I, um-"

"I see you're having a hard time of it right now," the host, Eliza, said consolingly. "When I found out you were in Paris, I had to arrange an interview, right ladies?!"

Arthur blinked as the audience whooped and clapped. He swallowed, shifting in his seat.

"Now, there are rumours you're never coming back to modeling." Eliza shook her head, sadly. "Which is such a waste! So, I took the liberty of inviting a couple of people on here to see if you'd change your mind!"

Arthur opened his mouth. "I, uh-"

"So, please welcome Summer and Jared!"

Arthur, his eyes widening with horror, watched as the two of them walked onto the stage.

**I love reviews, if you could leave one it would be great, thank you!**


	73. Chapter 73

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur blinked in shock as Summer and Jared ambled onto the stage. Summer, he noted, was wearing a tight, short dress, whilst Jared was clad in an almost comical pairing of skintight leather trousers, and a grubby looking t-shirt. He smirked at Arthur.

"Well," he said, sarcastically, "you're looking..." he paused, dramatically - "portly! Even rotund!"

Arthur blinked, suddenly realising a few gasps and titters were emanating from the audience. He smiled, politely. "And you're looking very...well."

The host looked from Arthur to the newly arrived couple. "Jared, you used to photograph Arthur, didn't you?"

"Used to being the operative word," the photographer responded, sarcastically. "I doubt I've got a lens wide enough!"

Arthur swallowed, suddenly feeling exposed. The insults being fired at him were what he expected - but on TV, he was aware of his vulnerability.

Eliza leaned towards Arthur, smiling placatingly. "How do you feel about Jared's comments?"

Arthur swallowed. "Well, I am heavier than when I was modelling. By about 2 kilos." He raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think anyone would notice."

The audience began to chuckle, appreciatively. Arthur smiled. Jared glared at him.

"What Arthur doesn't realise," Jared commented, "is that the camera never lies. He can tell himself he looks fine, but trust me, people notice!"

Arthur shook his head. "I know you noticed, its all you've commented on for the last two minutes."

"Right," Eliza broke in. "Arthur, what do you think caused your weight gain?"

He blinked, suddenly wondering what on earth Eames had signed him into. He smiled, fixedly. "Possibly enjoying my life. And being in love."

Eliza looked at him. "Really?"

"Yes," he said, confidently. "I'm engaged."

The audience responded with coos, and murmurs. Eliza smiled. "Is she a model?"

"No," Arthur replied, shaking her head. "She's more attractive than that, trust me."

He heard gasps of shock. Eliza turned to Summer. "Summer, you once dated Arthur. How do you feel about that comment?"

"How do I feel?" Summer snapped. "She's short, and not exactly pretty!" She tossed her hair back, and glared at him. "And when we were together, he used to make me feel so bad! So ugly!"

"What?" Arthur couldn't help gasping. "What? Would you care to elaborate on that?"

"Fine." She narrowed her eyes. "When we were together, you were always telling me about food, shoving it in my face, making a big deal of it-"

"Because I cared!" Arthur snapped. "Because I cared about the fact that you were starving yourself!"

She looked at him. "Arthur!"

"Stop lying!" Arthur was furious, he face flushing a shade of crimson. "Backstage, it was always the same! Laxatives pills, any method you could find to lose weight you didn't need!"

Eliza spoke. "Arthur, these are very serious allegations you are making. You're saying-"

"I'm not just saying," Arthur said, getting to his feet. "I'm telling the truth. Summer, you have an eating disorder. Get some help before it kills you. I'm done."

"What?" Jared spoke. "Are you serious? She could do with losing a few pounds!"

Arthur ignored the gasp from the host. "You really know how to treat a woman, don't you? Can't you see she's sick?"

Summer looked at him. "You have no evidence-"

"Remember when you came to my apartment that one time, and I cooked you dinner?" he interrupted, suddenly needing to speak. "You ate half of it, picked at the rest, and excused yourself to go to the bathroom." He shook his head. "You're not exactly subtle."

Jared leaned forward "Yeah, unlike you, who eats your portion and then eats everyone else's!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, I just don't see why I should have to stay at an unnatural weight to be a performing monkey for people." He shrugged. "I'm tired of it. Tired of being treated like a piece of meat. Its time I had a life."

Jared was furious. "Yeah, but let's see how much fat is on the meat!" Before Arthur could stop him, Jared had grabbed the front of Arthur's shirt, ripping it open.

The audience gasped. Arthur stood in front of them, showing his lean, slightly muscled torso. He raised an eyebrow. "Satisfied?"

Jared was gasping with shock. "I-"

"Yeah," Arthur said, bitterly. "Clearly, I'm enormous!" He glared at Jared. "I'm just not as stick thin as I was, that's all!"

The audience gasped, causing the host to stand, as though pleading for calm. Arthur began to walk off stage, feeling his anger surge. Summer was following him. "Arthur!"

He sighed, and turned to her. "What?" He shook his head, and began pulling his shirt together, taking in her appearance. "I'm not going to fight with you, so don't even start."

"What you said out there..." her lip was trembling. "I don't have a-"

"Summer." His voice was gentle. "We can go and talk about this if you wish, like civilised adults." He swallowed. "Do you want to go and get some coffee? Black," he added as an afterthought.

She shook her head. "No." She looked at him, her lips thinning into a line. "You don't understand, Arthur. You really don't."

"Don't what?" his tone was soft. "I don't understand what?"

"This is all I have, this career, and-" She swallowed. "And Jared."

"Jared?" Arthur repeated. "You're with Jared?!"

"Yes," Jared snapped, suddenly appearing at Summer's side and taking her arm. "You're not the only person capable of a relationship!"

"Never said I was," Arthur said, evenly. "But do you...really think this is a good idea?" He looked at Summer. "Do you really think Jared will help you with your.."

"What?" she asked, looking confused.

"Self-esteem," he replied.

"What?" Jared snarled. "I'm bad for her self-esteem? If she was with you, she'd be the size of an elephant!" He took Summer's arm. "Come on, let's go!"

Arthur watched as they began to leave. Suddenly, Eames appeared. "Artie! That was great!"

"Was it?" Arthur replied, brokenly

"Yes!" Eames was beaming. "You've just shown why no-one should want to model! Now, come on!"

Arthur looked at the older man. "Eames, this fashion show. I'm not doing it."

"What?" Eames' features began to sag. "You're not-"

"I'm deadly serious." Before Eames could respond, Arthur had turned, and started walking away.

**Please review - it is appreciated!**


	74. Chapter 74

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

"Arthur!" Eames shouted as he began to walk away. "Arthur, come back!"

Arthur ignored him. This farce of a TV interview had merely underlined for him why he was planning on walking away. He continued, moving past the shocked faces of the crew, whom he noticed were whispering amongst themselves.

"Arthur!"

"Oh, ignore him," he heard Jared say, smugly. "Probably just going out to get his fifth burger of the evening!"

Arthur stopped. Turning, he glared at Jared.

"What did you just say?"

"I said, probably going to get your fifth burger of the evening!" Jared had folded his arms, which only served to emphasise the unnatural thinness of his torso. "But it doesn't matter, as long as your girlfriend likes you tubby!"

Arthur began to walk towards him. "Jared. Leave me alone." He shook his head, tiredly. "I don't need this. I'm leaving modelling. I don't care how many burgers I eat. As long as I can walk up a mountain, and ride my bike, I'm fine."

Jared's lip curled. "If you say so." He turned back to Summer. "Come on. Let's get away from the fat freak!"

Arthur watched as he walked over to his ex-girlfriend. She looked pale, and was leaning against the wall. "Come on!" Jared barked, impatiently.

Summer's eyes fluttered. "Jared, I-"

"Look, you fat cow! We need to go!" Jared grabbed her hand, and began to roughly pull her along. Arthur blinked.

"Is this how you talk to her?"

"Well, what would you do?!" The obnoxious man sneered. "Probably tell her she's gorgeous when she can barely fit into anything!" He shook his head. "We're leaving! Come on!"

Summer's eyes were fluttering. "Jared, I-"

Arthur blinked. Before anyone could move, she'd collapsed onto the floor.

* * *

"Wow," Robert commented, shaking his head. He and Jules were sitting together on the couch, Ariadne next to them. "I'm pretty sure Arthur didn't ask for that."

Jules rested her head on his shoulder. "I still can't believe that you and Arthur once dated her!"

"No," Robert said with a shudder. "Neither can I." He got up, and began to walk over to the TV. "The sooner this show is over the better."

"Definitely," Jules nodded. "Eames will have you both performing on SNL next!"

Ariadne smiled. "Can't see Arthur agreeing to it!"

Jules snickered. "Oh, the two of you dancing to 'It's Raining Men'...I can!"

Robert looked at her. "You have an over-active imagination!"

"Well, I-"

Suddenly, Ariadne's cell phone began to chirp into life. She pulled it out of her pocket. "Hello? Eames?"

* * *

Arthur sat in the waiting room of the hospital, leaning his head against the wall. He closed his eyes.

The previous forty minutes felt like a bad dream, a nightmare he desperately wanted to wake up from. He'd turned his head, and seen her slump, then flutter to the floor, her thin frame making an unpleasant thudding sound as it collapsed.

He'd moved. "Hey!" he said, his tone anxious. "Summer!"

Jared had looked at him, a scowl on his face. "Leave her, she's faking." He pulled out his iPhone. "She does it for attention."

"Attention?!" Arthur's tone was one of outrage. "She's collapsed!"

"She'll be fine!"

Arthur felt his fury mount. "I'm calling for an ambulance." He watched with anger as Jared walked away.

He opened his eyes, looking at the cold tiles of the ceiling. A feeling of misery was beginning to pervade him. First Robert, now Summer. When, he thought bitterly, would he stop entering hospitals because of his job?

"Mr Ogilvie?"

He looked up. A doctor was standing, looking at him. Arthur blinked. "Its Dr Bryce, isn't it?"

She nodded, smiling. "Yes. You have a good memory." She sat down next to him. "Can I ask, what's your relationship to Summer?"

Arthur swallowed. "Well...friends." He stopped. "Yes."

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you, she's in bad shape. Very bad shape." Bryce looked at him. "She's got extremely low levels of iron and potassium, and also a weakened digestive system thanks to years of laxative abuse." She looked at Arthur. "What do you know about this?"

Arthur swallowed. "She's...bulimic," he said, softly. "And I think she may have been anorexic at one point." He rubbed his face. "She barely eats anything. Lives off coffee, cigarettes, and diet sodas."

Bryce shook her head. "No wonder. Her bone structure is the equivalent of an 80 year old." She stood up. "I need to check on her."

Arthur watched as she left. Eames appeared, and sat next to him. "Hey."

"Hey." Arthur rubbed his face. "Did you talk to Ariadne?"

"Yes." Eames shook his head. "I'll leave it to you to explain to her why you're with an ex-girlfriend."

Arthur looked at him. "She's a human being, Eames. And...shouldn't be in this condition." He swallowed. "No-one should be."

"Well, thank god you're too sensible." Eames began to fiddle with his cigarette packet. Arthur swallowed. "I-"

"What?" Eames turned to him, his eyes narrowing. "Arthur, talk to me!"

The younger man shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I-" he looked at him. "I-"

"Arthur."

"Do you remember when we went out for dinner with Alicia Wilkes?"

"The magazine editor? Of course." Eames shrugged. "I commented that I actually quite like it when I can grab onto a woman, and she looked disgusted."

Arthur smiled. "I believe your exact words were 'what's wrong with buxom?'" he shook his head. "Not what she wanted to hear."

Eames sighed. "Well, give me a woman with a bust anyday." He looked at Arthur. "But what were you doing?"

He shifted. "I-" he paused. "We had dinner. I felt full...and she made a comment."

Eames blinked. "What comment?"

"That I was looking a little chubby, and should really cut back."

"Arthur!" Eames looked outraged. "You've never looked chubby in your life!"

He swallowed. The memories of the experience were flooding back. Alicia - a thin, hawk faced woman, had scowled at him. "Really, Arthur!" she'd thundered. "Do you need bread? You're looking heavy enough as it is!"

His eyes had widened. "I-"

"Seriously, that is a fat roll!" She'd placed her finger on his side, and poked. He'd looked at Eames, amazed. The older man was concentrating on the wine list. "You need to lose it!"

He'd swallowed. "Alicia, I-"

"Arthur, I cannot have you in my show if you're plump! Diet!"

"And what did you do?"

"Excused myself, went to the bathroom." Arthur shook his head. "But thought- no. Don't do this. It would have been so easy, but-"

"I will get her for that!" Eames snapped. "She had no right!"

Arthur shrugged. "She just thought I was...cuddly." He smiled. "But, it doesn't matter."

Suddenly, he heard footsteps. Ariadne ran up to him, and he enfolded her in his arms. "Hey!"

"Oh!" She hugged him. "Arthur - what happened?"

"Summer collapsed, she-" Arthur stopped. Bryce had re-appeared, a grave expression on her face. He looked at her. "Is she-"

"She's alive, but unconscious." Bryce shook her head. "Her system is so damaged its practically shut down."

Arthur blinked. "And the cause?"

"What you were saying. Eating disorders, laxative abuse-" she looked at Arthur. "Congratulations for getting out of modelling. I'm sure your fiancee will love you whether your 140 or 300lbs."

Ariadne smiled. "True."

"But-"

"I don't think she'll have long. If she wakes up." Bryce looked at him. "Anyone you can call?"

Arthur swallowed. "No," he said, softly. The doctor nodded, and he and Ariadne sat down, feeling stunned.

"Eames?" Arthur spoke after a pause.

"Yes?"

"The fashion show? In which we were going to raise awareness of the absurdity of modelling and starving yourself?"

"Yes?"

Arthur looked at him. "I'm in."

**Thank you for reading, reviews appreciated!**


	75. Chapter 75

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. **

"Give us a twirl!"

Arthur, raising his eyebrows, stood in front of Ariadne. She was grinning. "You look so...substantial!"

"Hey!"

"No, I mean...you look..." an impish grin was covering her face. "So cuddly!"

Arthur put his hands on his hips, his knuckled pushing into soft foam. "I look enormous, frankly." He grinned at her. "Trust Eames to find someone who can make this look realistic. Without clothes, I look like I'm wearing this suit, in clothes, I look as though I've been eating non-stop!"

Ariadne shook her head, and walked forward. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"After everything that's happened?" he looked at her, seriously. "After Robert, and now Summer? Actions speak louder than words."

"Arthur!" came an impatient shout. He raised his eyebrows. "Duty calls." Leaning down, she kissed him on the forehead.

As he walked out of the fitting room, he swallowed. Eames had insisted on a rehearsal for the fashion show, and several of the other booked models were in attendance. Arthur began to stride out, to cheers and claps from the others. Eames had clearly felt that there was a need for an audience.

"Nice!" Ezra commented. He was a few years younger than Arthur, with a shock of black hair. "Looking good, Arthur!" The young man was grinning. "Tell me, where I can find someone who is clearly as good a cook as your girlfriend?!"

Arthur smirked. He considered the younger man a friend. "Trust me, I've been on a diet recently," he said, patting his prosthetic belly.

"Oh, it shows, trust me," Ezra commented, throwing him a wink. A couple of female models were looking at Arthur. "Oh, Art! There's so much more of you to love nowadays!"

Arthur nodded. "Yep." He adjusted the suit, marvelling at the quality and skill of Nash's design. Eames walked up to him. "Ready? I was thinking you and Robert could walk out to the tune of 'It's Raining Men'-"

"You what?!"

"Its Raining Men! Its humourous, light hearted! You can even sing!"

"NO."

"I could get you a confetti gun, you can pull it out of your trousers and fire it-"

"Eames! STOP!"

"Oh, come on Arthur," the older man wheedled. "This is for a good cause!"

"Yes, to highlight how ridiculous and shallow this all is!"

"Exactly! So why not make it more so?" Eames was grinning. "You'll get to strip off, and-"

"Expose my chest. I know." Arthur swallowed. "Look, this suit is getting really hot. Can we begin now?"

"Of course! Let's just-" Eames sighed. "Is that your cell phone? I thought you had it in your bag in the dressing room!"

"Oh, sorry." Arthur fished it out of his pocket, and frowned. It was number he didnt' recognise. "I'll just answer this." He clicked the button. "Hello?"

"Arthur Ogilvie?"

"Yes?"

"This is the General Memorial Hospital. Summer is awake, and asking for you." There was a pause. "Could you come and see her?"

"Well, I'm working." Arthur bit his lip.

"Mr Ogilvie, I appreciate this must be distressing, but she wants to see you. Can you be here in less than an hour?"

Arthur sighed. He turned to Eames, and carefully laid his hand over the phone's mouthpiece. "I have to go and see Summer."

"Why?" Eames asked, puzzled.

"Because she's awake, and asking for me." He blinked. "I need to go."

"Arthur!" Eames looked annoyed. "Is she worth it? You'd better get changed first!"

"Oh, I will. And you're coming with me."

* * *

Eames was silent as they drove to the hospital. As they parked, Arthur got out, noticing how there were no paprazzi in sight. "Interesting," Eames commented.

Arthur shrugged. "I suspect security got rid of them." They began to walk towards the main doors, Arthur biting his lip. "Have you noticed how much time we've spent in hospitals, lately?"

"I know," Eames sighed, dramatically. "I'm looking forward to getting a new job, where I don't have to deal with this."

"A new job? You?"

"Yes. I'm thinking of moving back to London. Working in the heritage industry. Museums. That way, I can still deal with clothes...but thankfully without argumentative people who wear them." They entered, Arthur heading to the reception desk.

"Hi. I'm here to see Summer?"

"Oh, of course. Room 5a."

Nodding, Arthur began to walk down the corridor. Eames nodded, and stayed in the waiting area.

As he reached her door, he swallowed, and gently tapped on it. "Summer?"

He pushed the door open, and entered. His face creased in a frown as he walked in, taking in her appearance. She was lying in the bed, and, he noticed with a shudder, with an intravenous feeding tube taped to her nose. He swallowed, and sat down. "Hey."

"Arthur?" she turned her head, weakly. "Thanks for coming."

He swallowed, trying to keep his feelings of shock at bay. "Well, the hospital said you'd asked for me."

"I don't have anyone else, but you." The admission came as a shock, causing his eyes to widen. "You've always...been there for me. Always."

He leaned forward, propping his hand on his chin. "Well, I tend to be there for anyone who I think needs help." He looked at her. "And you do."

She nodded. "The doctor says...my bones are weak. And my organs are damaged." She swallowed. "I...need to eat more."

"You do."

"And try and gain some muscle."

"Yes."

"I want you to help me."

"Summer. I can't."

"You helped Robert."

He flinched. "I did. But, Summer...you and me, its a different situation. I'm engaged. And in love. And you could..." he bit his lip. "I don't want to abandon you, but I can't help you in the way you want. I'm sorry."

"I wish I was still with you." She looked at him. "You were always so good to me. You never insulted me, or abused me-"

"You did to me." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Don't you remember when I took you out for dinner, and you called me a whale because I dared to ask for the bread basket?!"

"Arthur, I was-"

"Sick." He stared at her. "You were sick. And I told you. I wanted to help you, but you wouldn't listen. And this is why you're in this state." He shook his head. "Please, accept some treatment."

He got up. "I have to go. I'm sorry."

As he began to leave, he heard her voice. "Arthur? I love you."

He closed his eyes, feeling slightly sick. He turned, and smiled sadly. "No, you don't. Trust me." Swallowing, and feeling desperate to return to Ariadne, he hurried out of the room.

**Thank you for reading - please leave a review, it is appreciated!**


	76. Chapter 76

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Many thanks to The Angry Lioness for lending me Jules, and for some other ideas!**

Ariadne heard the front door close, and frowned. She hurried into the main hallway, and encountered Arthur.

"Hey," he said, tiredly, opening his arms. She practically fell into them, and let him pull her close. "How is she?"

Arthur sighed. "She's...not good." He released her, and took a step back. "She really isn't. But, she was warned...and warned...and warned." He rubbed his forehead. "But, I can't help her."

Ariadne nodded. "You tried."

"And failed." He put his arm around her waist, and pulled her close. "But, she's in the right hands." He closed his eyes, trying to forget Summer's last comment to him.

Maybe she did. But he could not, would not trust her. He opened his eyes, and drank in Ariadne's appearance. She was everything he wanted.

He was sure of that.

Ariadne looked at him. "Dinner?"

He smiled. "Sounds good."

They walked into the kitchen, silently. As Ariadne began pulling ingredients out of the refridgerator, Arthur began to search for a bottle of wine. As he was sliding out the cork, his cellphone began to ring. Frowning, he pulled it out of his pocket. "Hello?" his eyes suddenly widened. "Mom!"

Ariadne turned, noticing the sudden change in his voice. They widened further as she noticed how Arthur was biting his lip. "Mom, yes. I know. I'm sorry. I should have...well, you know what the press are like-I did want to, but-" He pulled the phone away from his ear, and shook his head. "No, I wasn't trying to hide the fact I'm engaged from you. I do want the two of you to meet. I want all of you to meet, but-"

Ariadne couldn't suppress a smirk as she began to chop lettuce. Arthur's obvious discomfort was beginning to show.

"Tomorrow?!" The word came out as a near squeak, and Ariadne almost dropped the knife. "You're going to be in Paris tomorrow? No, of course I want to see you guys, its just- ok, you'll check in at the hotel, and then we'll meet for dinner. Yeah, I'm looking forward to it. So is Ariadne. OK, bye!"

Ariadne, her eyes widening, turned to him. "Your parents are arriving?!"

Arthur nodded, sheepishly. "Yes. Word got back to them in the States...and they want to fly over and meet you. So they are. They kind of act on impulse." He poured wine into a glass.

"Arthur...do you think they'll like me?"

He smiled. "They'll love you. Trust me." He took a sip of wine.

"Well, there is another question."

"What's that?"

"Where shall we take them?"

Suddenly, the door banged. "Hi!" Arthur turned as Jules and Robert entered the room. They stopped, noting his slightly sombre expression. "What is it?"

"Its..." Arthur swallowed. "My parents are arriving tomorrow. And they're meeting me and Ariadne for dinner."

Robert raised an eyebrow. "Is this wise?" he grinned. "In laws!"

"Oh, stop it," Jules chided him. "Arthur's parents will be lovely."

"Will you two be there?" Arthur said, suddenly. "It would be easier." Jules and Robert exchanged glances.

"Arthur, I don't know," Robert said, slowly. "I mean...don't you want to see them?"

"I do, but-"

"Tell you what," Jules interrupted. "We'll go to the same restaurant, but sit at a different table, ok?"

Arthur smiled. "Perfect."

* * *

Arthur checked his watch as Ariadne sat beside him. She looked at him, her expression calm. "Stop it. They'll be here."

Arthur reached for his water glass. "Its just...I haven't seen much of them over the last two years. Work became so hectic, I was out of the US for weeks...my parents have probably seen me more in magazines than they have in person!"

"So now is a good time to re-connect," Ariadne gently reminded him. She reached for her wine glass, and turning, waved at Jules and Robert, who were sitting to the side of the room. "I'm sure they-"

"Ari," Arthur interrupted, standing up. "They're here!"

Ariadne turned, and noticed the older couple entering the restaurant. Arthur's parents were attractive, she thought. His father was tall, with greying hair and suited, whilst his mother had dark eyes like her son. Swallowing, Arthur got up and waved. Ariadne watched as they approached, his mother's expression became genuinely excited, whilst his father looked slightly critical.

"Arthur!" His mother opened her arms, and pulled him into an embrace. "Oh, finally! Finally! Its been so long!"

"I know," Arthur mumbled. "I'm sorry, but, work-"

"Still," his mother interrupted. "You're here, we're here, and its "so good to see you!" She took a step back. "You're still too thin!"

Arthur blushed. "Yes, Mom, I know. Still, this is-"

"You must be Ariadne!" his father exclaimed. "Delighted to meet you!" He held out his hand, letting the younger woman grasp it. She shook it, smiling.

"Jim!" his mother said, frowning. "Ariadne is going to be our daughter in law! She's practically family already! Here!" Before Ariadne could move, his mother had pulled her into an embrace. "Oh, you're lovely! Arthur, I'm so glad you're with someone who is actually normal!"

Arthur blinked, and reddened, casting an agonised look at Ariadne. "Mom, I really don't think that-"

"Arthur, its ok," Ariadne said, gently, smiling at his mother. "Its lovely to meet you too, Mrs Ogilvie, and-"

"Oh! Please call me Susan!" she interrupted. "And this is Jim!"

"Right," Arthur said, hastily. "Shall we sit?"

"Of course," his mother said, nodding. As they began to seat themselves, the waiter bustled up, bearing menus. Arthur smiled and gratefully accepted his.

"Arthur," his mother said, shaking her head. "I really hope you're taking proper care of yourself! You do look too thin, you know!"

"Mom, I've actually put a little on," he said, hastily. "Trust me."

"I'm so glad you're no longer modelling," his mother continued. "It was such an unhealthy career!"

"Absolutely," his father said, nodding. "You're so much better than that! You can go back to college, become a lawyer!"

"Dad!" Arthur almost choked on his water. "I don't think I'm cut out to be a lawyer, I was thinking I-"

"well, what then?"

"A musician," Arthur said, firmly. "I think I want to become a professional musician. Not in a band, but a session musician, something like that." He shook his head. "Anyway, come on. We're not here by ourselves."

* * *

Jules cast a glance at the table and looked at Robert. "Reckon we ought to do that?"

He shrugged. "Well, my parents are both dead," he gently reminded her. "So it'll have to be yours!"

"Yes," Jules said, smiling. "I've told my mother you have the looks of a God and the IQ of an ameoba."

Robert smirked. "And her reaction?"

"Oh, does that mean he can put up with you?" Jules grinned. "Sorry."

Robert smiled and leaned over, kissing her. "Of course I can. For a long time."

* * *

"Of course, Arthur." His mother turned to Ariadne, and smiled. "What do you do, sweetheart?"

"I'm studying to be an architect," she said, smiling. "In fact, I-"

"Oh, Arthur!" his father interrupted. "You're marrying a woman with brains! What a relief! I always thought you'd end up with one of those bubble heads you worked with!"

Arthur grimaced. "Dad, not all models are stupid." He blushed furiously as Ariadne raised her eyebrows at him. "In fact, models are not stupid!"

His mother shook her head. "Arthur, its fine. I sometimes wondered if you'd marry Summer."

Ariadne blinked, as Arthur went even redder. "No, Mom, trust me, that would never happen." He took a gulp of water. "We were...too different."

His father shook his head. "Well." Suddenly, the waiter appeared. "Oh, time to order!" his mother turned to him. "Make sure you order something substantial!"

"Mom, I will," Arthur promised. Ariadne smiled. "He will, trust me!"

"Oh, its good you've found a woman who wants you to eat," his father said approvingly. "Hopefully you'll fatten him up properly as he gets older!"

Arthur nearly choked. "Dad!"

Ariadne nodded. "Oh, don't worry!"

"Good," his father said approvingly. "Its a wife's job to keep her husband fat and happy!"

Arthur buried his face in his hands. "Dad, I-"

"ARTHUR!"

Arthur blinked, and looked up. To his shock, Jared was striding through the restaurant, a furious look on his face. "Arthur! Why are you visiting Summer in hospital? She told me you were going to leave Ariadne for her!"

Arthur, his face white with shock, turned to face Ariadne and his parents.

**All readers appreciated, and I'd love some reviews, thank you!**


	77. Chapter 77

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur swallowed as he got up. Jared was glaring at him, almost leering. He shuddered slightly, trying to compose his thoughts.

"Arthur," his mother asked, pleasantly. "Who is this young man?"

"This is Jared," Arthur said, quietly. "He's the fiancee of an acquaintance of mine."

"An acquaintance?" Jared looked at him, his jaw dropping. "From what Summer told me, you're more than an acquaintance!"

"How did you know we were here?" Arthur asked, trying to remain calm. Jared's expression was decidedly ugly.

"Oh, its simple," Jared snarled. "See the guy over there?" he pointed to a non-descript man, wearing a light grey suit, sitting with a young woman. "Paparazzi. And a friend of mine." He grinned. "Sent me a text, telling me you were here!"

Arthur rubbed his forehead. "Should have known."

"So, tell me," Jared continued, his voice loud enough that people were beginning to nudge each other. "What did you say to her? That you'll marry her? That you love her? Because she told me that you were leaving Ariadne for her, and going to run away together!"

Arthur blinked. "Run away? Jared, she can't even get out of bed!" He shook his head. "Whatever she said, its completely untrue. I visited her because I felt concerned for her - but concerned as a former colleague." He looked at Ariadne. "I have no intention of marrying anyone other than Ariadne. It really is that simple."

"Not what Summer thinks." Jared shook his head. He turned to Arthur's mother. "Your son, is a cheat. He leads women on! I thought you could raise him better!"

"I raised him well," Susan responded, coldly. She looked at Jared. "If he says he's not interested in your girlfriend, I believe him!"

Jared turned. "We'll see." He looked at Ariadne. "You look a bit shaken. Maybe you should ask your hero whether its true!"

Smirking, Jared turned, and left. Arthur shook his head. The evening had been ruined. He sat down, slumping at the table. "Come on," he muttered, reaching for his wallet. "Let's just get out of here."

* * *

The journey back to the house was silent. Arthur looked at Ariadne, but realised she was lost in thought. As for his parents, they sat in silence. His father's jaw was set, his mother looked concerned.

As he opened the front door, he listened. Silence greeted them, causing a wave of relief. He decided to head into the kitchen. "Coffee, anyone?"

"No thank you," his mother said, gently. "Think we'll head to bed."

Arthur nodded, watching as his parents began to walk up the stairs. He turned to Ariadne. "Do you-"

"Arthur." She looked at him. "I don't believe a word of what Jared said, ok?"

He blinked, and visibly relaxed. "Oh, I-"

"I trust you." She walked to him, and grabbed his hands. "I really do."

He nodded, and leaning down, kissed her forehead. "Thank you." Relief was flooding through him. "I am concerned about her, but its as concerned as a colleague can be." He sighed, and sat down at the table.

"Arthur." Ariadne sat down next to him. "Tell me something. Have you ever..." she paused - "made yourself ill?"

He swallowed. "Nearly." He looked at her. "Until I realised how stupid I was being." He rubbed his face. "Ari, I promise you. I am not bulimic, or anorexic and-"

"I can believe that," a voice interrupted. "You were always raiding the fridge as a teenager!"

Arthur blinked as his mother entered. "Mom, I-"

"I needed some water," she explained. She gave him a shrewd look. "Its good to see you, Arthur. Especially as your father and I have mostly seen you on billboards for the last two years."

Arthur blushed. "Well, work got-"

"I know, " she interrupted, sitting down at the table, smiling at Ariadne. "Hectic. But, Arthur, you really were getting too thin. You used to look so healthy!"

"I know, I know." Arthur smiled. "I do have a better lifestyle now, though." He blinked as Ariadne leaned over and kissed him. "I'm going to bed. See you soon!"

"Definitely," he said, nodding at Ariadne. His mother watched as the petite brunette left the kitchen, and picked up her water glass.

Then her face clouded. "But Arthur...Summer. What happened?"

Arthur sighed. "She's a former girlfriend of mine. We dated for a few months, but broke up. And she's chronically sick. Eating disorder." He rubbed his face. "I did try and help but...she collapsed. She's in hospital, and asked to see me."

"And you went?"

"Mom, I couldn't leave her there on her own." He shook his head, and got up. "I really need to go to bed." He leaned over, and kissed her on the cheek. "Good night."

His mother reciprocated. "Good night, sweetheart."

Arthur left the room, his thoughts in turmoil.

* * *

As he entered the bedroom, he smiled. Ariadne was sitting up, reading. The gentle click of the kindle was the only audible sound in the room. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," she replied, switching the device off. She pulled back the covers. "Come on, get in!"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Trying to boss me around?" He quickly climbed into the bed, and let her cuddle close to him. "When we're married, you can boss me around all you like!"

She laughed. "I was thinking...we should write our vows."

"I agree. How about - 'I promise to do at least half the housework?'"

"Sounds good," she said, nodding. "And I could add, 'I promise to let you have your own space.'"

Arthur smiled. "Don't think I'll need much." He let her lean against him. He looked at her. "God, I'm lucky. I'm with you."

She swallowed. "Arthur...do you ever wish you had ended up with a model?"

"Oh, God no!" he said, looking horrified. "No, trust me!" He shook his head. "I want to be with you."

She smiled. "I'm glad. And do let me have a front seat at this fashion show!"

He groaned. "You'll love it, I promise."

"I will." She smirked. "Its what you'll look like after a few years of married life!"

"Now there's a promise!" he leaned over, and their lips met in a kiss. As he pulled away, she looked at him. "I think you should visit Summer again."

"What?" Arthur looked shocked. "Why?"

"Because I trust you. And do you really want her to be left to become even more warped, with Jared?"

Arthur bit his lip. Despite his dislike for his ex, he was the first to admit he felt sorry for her. "No," he admitted. "I don't."

"Then its settled. But there is one condition."

"What's that?"

"I'm coming with you."

"Deal." He felt her press up against him, and switched off the light.

**Please review - it is appreciated!**


	78. Chapter 78

**Disclaimer:** **Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur sighed and turned over. Ariadne was still lying next to him, sleeping peacefully. He squinted as he looked at the clock - 7am. Swallowing, he got up, stretched, and began to reach for his robe. Pulling it on, he started to head downstairs.

He frowned. He could hear voices already.

"And you look so healthy!" Arthur swallowed. His mother - clearly talking to Robert. "I mean, you look so good!"

"Well, I think I've chosen a healthier lifestyle." Arthur stood at the doorway, listening.

"Its worrying, what modelling does to people. I sometimes wondered about Arthur."

"What do you mean, Mrs Ogilvie?" Robert's voice was studiedly polite.

"Well, I often wondered how he lived." He heard the sound of two ceramic mugs being placed on the table. "I mean, he was always skinny as a teenager, but you can't really maintain that level of thinness as you get older, can you?"

"Well, I-" Robert stopped. "I know that I couldn't."

"It must have been hard for you."

"Well, I-" Robert paused again. "Let's just say that when you've got your head bent over a toilet bowl at 3am, trying to clear yourself of any food you think you might have consumed, you know you've got a problem."

"Oh, Robert!"

"I thought it was normal." Arthur swallowed, wishing he'd not stumbled in on this conversation. "My manager kept telling me how fat and ugly I was, and how he could replace me tomorrow."

"Robert! That's abuse!"

"But he was a friend of my father's. Told me he had my best interests at heart. Then Arthur made me stay here, and I-" he paused - "and, well, things got better. A lot better."

"I'm glad for you. Really."

"Thank you. And thank you for the coffee."

"It was my pleasure- Arthur!" His mother exclaimed, as he walked in. "I thought you were still asleep!"

Arthur smiled, slightly sheepishly. "I was craving caffeine," he explained. As he entered the kitchen, Robert nodded at him. "Morning. I'm going to get dressed. We have a rehearsal later this morning."

"We do." Arthur watched him leave, then turned to his mother, smiling as cup of black coffee was placed before him. "Thank you."

"He looks so healthy these days!" his mother exclaimed. "He needed to put on some weight!"

Arthur nodded. "He did. So did I!"

"You have," his mother agreed. She settled down across from him. "But Arthur-" she bit her lip. "I need you to be honest with me."

"I overheard what Robert told you," Arthur said, swallowing. "He was sick, really sick. I caught him making himself vomit before a show. I caught him taking cocaine. In fact, I caught him doing everything he thought he needed to do to stay the size he was."

"You never did anything like that?"

Arthur swallowed. "Once. Only once." He looked at his mother, and reached for her hand. "And it was a long time ago."

She shook her head. "Oh, Arthur. I-"

Suddenly, she looked at the door. Ariadne was standing in the centre of the doorway, yawning. Arthur got up, and kissed her. "Hey."

"You left me," she said, almost accusingly. She swallowed. "Arthur, I don't know if you-"

"What?" he interrupted.

"Your phone," she said, quietly, holding it out to him. "The hospital rang."

Arthur blinked. "What?"

"Arthur, you need to call them. Right away."

"I-" suddenly, Arthur felt his blood turn into ice water. "Its Summer, isn't it? What happened?!" He reached for the phone, and immediately pressed re-dial. After what seemed an interminable wait, a voice answered. "Hello, General."

"Good morning," Arthur said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Arthur Ogilvie, there was a message for me?"

"Mr Ogilvie? Yes." There was a slight pause, and suddenly, a different voice spoke. "Is that Mr Ogilvie?"

"Yes." Arthur could feel his hands almost shaking with frustration. "What is it?"

"Mr Ogilvie. How quickly can you get here?"

* * *

Arthur gripped the wheel of the car, his knuckles white with tension. Ariadne looked at him, biting her lip. "Arthur, please, slow down!"

He blinked, easing his foot off the accelerator. "Oh, God, of course. Sorry." He looked at her, his expression anguished. "Its just-"

She shook her head. "Its all right. Really."

Arthur nodded, seemingly not wanting to meet her eyes. As they pulled into the parking lot, he frowned. "Oh, God."

"What?"

"Paparazzi." Pulling the key out of the ignition, he opened the door, Ariadne following. As they began to walk towards the entrance, the paprazzi started to turn. Grimacing, Arthur began to walk directly towards them.

"Hey, Arthur!" one shouted. "How does it feel to be one of the fat people?!"

He turned, and smirked. "Wonderful." Pushing the door open, they hurried to the reception desk.

"Hi," Arthur gasped out. "I'm looking for Summer Quinn?"

The receptionist looked up. "One moment."

As she pressed several telephone buttons, Arthur leaned against the desk, rubbing his forehead. Ariadne looked at him, her expression concerned. A doctor appeared. "Mr Ogilvie?"

"Yes." Arthur looked at him. "Summer Quinn, is she-"

"She's in a coma."

"What?" Arthur looked stunned.

"Mr Ogilvie, her eating disorder caused extensive damage. She's in a critical condition. I'm not allowing anyone to see her, I though you'd be informed over the phone."

Arthur's jaw was sagging. "Will she...?"

The doctor shook his head. "I can't say," he said, gently. "My advice to you is to go home."

He turned and left. Arthur looked at Ariadne. "Oh, God," he whispered. "I'm sorry you had to be here for this."

She shook her head. "Its all right."

Arthur was rubbing his face. "This is what this industry did to her..." He looked at Ariadne. "I need to do this show. I want to marry you. And then its a new life. Together. Away from all this." He bit his lip. "But I couldn't help her."

Ariadne leaned forward, and touched his face. "No-one could," she whispered. Swallowing, Arthur pulled her close, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	79. Chapter 79

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

"Its not your fault."

Arthur blinked. Ariadne was lying next to him, her eyes focused on his face. He nodded, letting her pull closer to him. "Thank you."

She sighed inwardly, aware that the slight tremour in his voice meant he could not accept that. He sighed in frustration. "I still could have done something."

"Like what?" Ariadne began to pull herself into a sitting position. "Like drag her to a restaurant, and make her eat? Force her to swallow food?"

Arthur exhaled slowly. "I should have persuaded Eames to become her agent. He would have made sure she was all right. But-"

"But what?"

"Nothing." He began to turn over. "Shall we go to sleep, and talk about this tomorrow?"

Ariadne bit her lip. They'd finally left the hospital after being fully briefed on the seriousness of Summer's condition. All the doctors would concur is that any family she had should be contacted, and they would do everything they could, but...

She closed her eyes. Arthur's silence was making her uneasy. Suddenly, he spoke.

"But I'm petty, and I wanted to give her the cold shoulder." His voice was breaking. "So I told Eames that if she worked for him, I wouldn't." He was keeping his face turned away from Ariadne. "If I'd agreed to it, he would have made sure that she'd got some help."

Stunned, Ariadne listened.

"Remember when Summer did the TV interview, claiming that I bullied her, put her down? Maybe I didn't, but I could have done just one thing - and the reason I didn't, was my ego. Because having my ex-girlfriend working for the same agent would be too humiliating. And now she's dying ,and I could have-"

He stopped. Ariadne was getting out of bed, and reaching for her robe. Taken aback, he watched her go downstairs.

"Where are you?"

"I fancy a snack. Want one?" she looked at him.

He blinked. "I, uh-" He looked at his hands. "Go on."

* * *

Ariadne entered the kitchen, and proceeded to open the cupboards, searching. As she did so, a light switched on. She turned, startled.

Robert was standing in the kitchen. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "Just...needed a snack. How about you?"

"Oh, I'm fine." He settled himself down at a stool. "But are you all right?"

Ariadne looked at the loaf of bread she was holding. "No." She turned to the other man. "You know what happened, right?"

Robert nodded. "Yes. My ex is now in hospital, comatose." He sighed. "its horrific. But then, I-"

"Arthur feels so badly about it!" she burst out. "As though he's responsible! Saying how he should have agreed to have her managed by Eames!"

Robert shook his head. "Would never have happened. Eames doesn't manage coke heads."

She looked at him. "I'll tell him that."

"Do. Tell him he needs to get over this." Robert shook his head. "And tell him to get some sleep. For tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"The fashion show. Remember?"

Ariadne's jaw dropped. She peered down at the peanut butter sandwiches she'd made. "Oh, I-"

"Get Arthur to eat it," Robert commented. There was a ghost of a smile on his face. "We're supposed to look fat, remember?"

"I-" she swallowed. "Of course."

Robert got up. "I'm going back to bed. Jules probably won't be asleep right now." He smiled at Ariadne. "And wondering what I'm up to."

She nodded, then a thought struck her. "Robert?"

"Yes?"

"What are you going to do when you leave Paris?"

He turned back to her. "Train to become a chef." He noted her look of astonishment. "My father can keep his business empire. Jules and I want to open a restaurant together." He shrugged. "I've gone from being scared of food to enjoying it." He nodded. "I have you and Arthur to thank for that."

Ariadne watched as he headed upstairs. Holding the plate of sandwiches, she followed him.

* * *

Arthur moved down in the bed. He smiled as Ariadne entered. "Here!"

"Wow!" his eyes widened. "Just for me?" he said, jokingly. "Sure you don't want me to waddle down the aisle on our wedding day?"

She looked at him. "I don't care if people have to roll you down it, as long as you're alive." She offered him the plate. Nodding, he picked up a sandwich.

"Besides-" she looked at him - "you need to stop being so hard on yourself. Summer is not your responsiblity. She never was. But...have you forgotten what tomorrow is?"

Arthur blinked. "Huh?"

"The fashion show," Ariadne said, patiently. "Its tomorrow, remember?"

Arthur's mouth fell open. "I-"

"So, if I were you, I'd think about what you're going to say." Ariadne looked at him. "This is your chance."

"For what?"

"To make your feelings about this completely clear." As he bit into the sandwich, he nodded.

**All readers appreciated, and I'd love some reviews, thank you!**


	80. Chapter 80

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to The Angry Lioness. **

"Arthur?"

He blinked, and opened his eyes. Ariadne was standing next to him, holding a mug. "Its time."

Arthur groaned, and sat up. "It can't be." He turned his head, and squinted at the bedside clock. "It is. 7 am." He reached out and gratefully took the mug. "Thank you."

Ariadne smiled as she handed it to him. "I put a couple of sugars in."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Little late to fatten me up for today," he teased. "Should have started earlier!"

She grinned. "Don't. I like to bake." She settled down next to him, and rested her head on his shoulder. "Arthur...this show today..."

"Oh, don't." He looked at her. "I get to waddle down the catwalk. At least Robert will be with me." He reached for her hand. "And then...we start looking for our new apartment, I enrol at the University, you finish your Architecture degree, and maybe we take a holiday in New York. How does that sound?"

"Perfect." She kissed him on the cheek.

* * *

"Jules?"

"Robert?"

"Do I look-" he swallowed - "do I look healthy enough to do this?" He was standing in front of the full length mirror, examining himself from each angle. Jules frowned, and getting up, began to loop her arms around his waist.

"You do," she whispered, resting her chin against his back. "Compared to what you looked like when I first saw you-"

He nodded. "I know. I was in the hospital." He turned his head. "Didn't think I'd ever recover."

"You wouldn't have done, if people like Browning and Summer had hung around," she reasoned. "They didn't just prey on your body. They also preyed on your mind."

Robert gave a half smile. "Didn't they just."

* * *

Arthur was pulling a t-shirt over his head when he heard the doorbell ring. "I'll get it," Ariadne offered, as she headed downstairs. He nodded, and rubbed his face, peering at himself in the mirror.

His face was definitely slightly rounder than when he'd arrived in Paris - his cheeks were no longer hollow. As he looked downwards, he also noticed that his stomach was no longer concave. It was flat, and his jeans fitted at the waist.

Arthur smoothed his t-shirt down. Healthy, he decided. He actually looked healthy. Frowning, he walked over and reached for his suitcase. He'd stashed it at the top of the wardrobe. Pulling it down, he unzipped the front pocket.

Reaching inside, he pulled out a magazine. It had been handed to him at the airport the day he'd flown from New York.

Grimacing, he looked at it. His own face, with an expression he didn't recognise. Smug. Arrogant. He flipped to the interview he'd given. It was full of saccharine pronouncements, that he suspected had been heavily altered.

Turning, Arthur tossed it into the trash.

* * *

"Right," Eames said, comfortably. "are you two ready to leave?"

Arthur looked at Robert, and nodded. "Yes."

"Now," Eames continued, as they started driving. "Nash wants you both to be comfortable. He doesn't want either of you sweating, scratching, or tugging at anything you wear, understand?"

Arthur sighed. "Yes, Eames."

"And don't pout, Arthur. It will ruin your face."

"No, Eames."

"And as for you two ladies..." Eames looked at Ariadne and Jules, tucked in the backseat next to Robert. "There will be handsome men backstage, ok?"

"We already have handsome men," Jules pointed out, indignantly. Arthur couldn't help but smile.

"Take this seriously, please." Eames looked at Arthur. "Its your bow out from modelling, remember?"

"Its my opportunity to blow the lid off this sleazy world," Arthur snapped back. Eames looked at him, reddening slightly. Arthur immediately felt ashamed. "Sorry," he muttered. "Its just-"

"No word about Summer?"

"No-one called." Arthur bit his lip. "What's going to happen to her? Going back to someone like Jared-" he shuddered.

"Oh, don't worry, she'll be working for me." Eames delivered the line casually. "I can't promise to make her eat three meals a day, but I can start with at least one and a half."

"You're such a romantic," Arthur commented.

"Now, now. You know she's not my type. I prefer women with some meat on them." Arthur shook his head. "Oh, don't look at me like that, I like something to hold on-"

"Eames!"

"Why are you blushing, Arthur?" Eames asked innocently, picking up on the stifled laughter from the backseats. "You know I'm very particular about the women I date. As, indeed, are you!"

"Stop picking on my fiance!" Ariadne said. Arthur smiled. "See. I have great taste."

"Absolutely. And when I'm your best man-"

"Um, Eames," Ariadne interrupted, "We-"

"Want you and Robert to share that honour," Arthur said, quickly. "Please?"

"Well, I-" Robert stopped. "Yes!"

"As long as he doesn't look better in a suit than me," Eames huffed, but as he turned to Arthur, he could see he was smiling. "Oh, look, we're here."

* * *

Arthur looked at himself in the mirror. "I bulge," he commented.

"You do," Eames said, smiling happily. "What you'll no doubt look like after a few years of Ariadne's baking. Now, Nash, the suit-"

"I decided I wanted it in black," Nash commented, nervously. "Not beige - its bland. Not grey - it makes you look older. But black...black like..." Nash paused "...Batman."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Do I wear a mask?"

"No!" Nash laughed. "Its just...I want you to look powerful, Arthur. And black has that effect. You'll look fat and powerful! This is about challenging perceptions, remember?"

"Rather than a weed!" Eames said, cheerfully. "Well go on, put it on!"

Arthur accepted the clothes, handed to him by a dresser. The fat suit was soft, bulky, and bulged in places he never would have considered. He swallowed as he saw the waist measurement.

"Nash, is this going to fit...?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely! Trust me, Arthur!"

"Nash!" came a slightly panicked voice. Nash blinked. "OK, Robert, coming!"

Eames winked at Arthur. "I'll be back soon. Alright?"

"OK," Arthur looked at the seemingly impossibly large suit. "Could you tell Ari to come backstage when I'm dressed?"

"I'm sure she's dying to give you a cuddle. Of course!"

* * *

"Arthur?" Ariadne wandered backstage, her eyes widening. "Arthur! There's so much...more of you!"

"I know," Arthur said, nodding. He turned. The suit and shirt had gone on more easily than he'd expected, and as Nash had predicted, he looked fat - but, he was happy to concede, good. The black suit did flatter his skin tone, and his hair was swept back and properly styled. "I just look like I've gained, what 50lbs?"

Ariadne smiled. "Possibly 60lbs." She reached up, and kissed him. "Oh, and you might want to hold this up when you go out there."

Arthur blinked. It was the magazine. "You found it?"

"Yes." She smiled. "In the trash. Arthur, its what you were. Rip it up. Onstage."

"Arthur?" Eames hurried towards him. "You're on. Five minutes."

Arthur turned. Robert, also wearing a black suit, had appeared. He also seemed to have gained a considerable amount of weight. He grinned at Arthur. "Ready?"

Arthur nodded.

"Oh, Mr Fischer?" a female attendant appeared, looking worried. "Mr Browning...he's in the front row."

Robert raised an eyebrow. "He did warn me about eating too much." He shrugged.

Ariadne kissed Arthur. "Good luck."

"Amazed you could do that with my stomach in the way," he teased.

The two men stepped up to the beginning of the runway. A couple of younger models had just walked off, and began to clap and cheer when they saw Arthur and Robert. As the lights dimmed, they began to walk out.

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you! **


	81. Chapter 81

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. Neither does Jules, she belongs to The Angry Lioness. **

Arthur swallowed. The lights, he suddenly realised, were too hot. Had they always been too hot, like this? He frowned, realising that he could almost feel his make up starting to congeal. Plus, he realised with a shock, his normally easy, athletic gait was lumbering, thanks to the extra weight he was carrying.

He heard shouts of encouragement from backstage. Turning his head slightly, he realised that Ezra, along with several others, were giving him the thumbs up. Swallowing, he continued to walk.

"Can you even see your feet?"

He stopped, blinking. One of the photographers was looking up from the pit, grinning. Arthur swallowed, trying to maintain his composure.

"I mean," the obnoxious man continued, "we'd all heard you two had put on a little weight, but you're the size of elephants!"

Arthur felt his blood beginning to turn into ice. Several people in the crowd were starting to nudge each other, and titter. He tried to compose his features.

"No, keep going!" The photographer jeered. "Let's see if the two of you go through the floor!"

Arthur smiled sweetly. "Well, let's hope I don't get stuck!"

There was a smattering of appreciative laughter from the audience, and scattered applause. Arthur began to continue walking. Robert was next to him.

"Don't worry!" He heard a female voice, and turning, noticed three young women whooping and cheering. "We'll help pull you out!"

Arthur looked at Robert.

"Heavy men are gorgeous!" one of the three women was shouting, standing up. "Every woman wants a man to have some meat on his bones!"

"Yeah, Arthur!" He head one of the male audience members jeer. "Every guy I know used to want to look like you! Now the two of you look like us!"

Robert blinked, waves of colour suffusing his face. Arthur swallowed. This was turning into a nightmare. Nash's gorgeous creations were being reduced to a laughing stock. Arthur bit his lip. Clearly, the two of them had no choice but to continue walking down the catwalk, although he now felt fat, heavy, and cumbersome.

"Hey, Robert!" He turned, and blinked. Browning was standing in his seat, his arms folded. Suddenly, to Arthur's shock, the music stopped abruptly. He turned his head, noting that Nash was standing at the entrance to the catwalk, looking stricken. Eames, seated with Ariadne and Jules, was biting his lip.

"You know, when I first started representing you," Browning began, standing up, "you were considered to be the biggest prize in modelling. You were considered so much more marketable than Arthur!"

Robert blinked. Arthur shook his head. "Ignore him," he whispered.

"But, how was I to know, I was saddling myself with a highly strung bulimic?!" Browning's voice was getting louder, and more antagonistic. "Someone who would sneak off to his hotel room after shows and stuff his face with whatever he could find?!"

Silence fell. Arthur could see Eames' expression darkening. Suddenly, he blinked. Jules and Ariadne had disappeared from their seats.

"So, yes,!" Browning was practically shouting at this point. "Robert, you're a disgrace! No self-control, none whatsoever! And look at you now, weak and fat!"

Robert opened his mouth. "Peter-"

"And as for Arthur!" Browning's face was scarlet. "Oh, the pictures we've seen of you! Stuffing your face at every opportunity! What are you going to look like in a few years? I'll tell you! Probably stretchered out of your house, the size of a killer whale!"

Arthur felt himself bristling with rage. The fat suit suddenly felt hot, coarse, and restricting. But before he could move, he felt someone slip their arm into his.

"I think Arthur's perfect," a voice almost purred. Shocked, he turned his head. Ariadne, clad in a long black dress that emphasised her petite figure, was clinging to his arm. She was holding a plate of strawberries.

"In fact," she said, turning to him, seemingly not caring they were in full view of everyone, "I think he'd look better...naked."

Before Arthur could protest, she'd placed a strawberry in his mouth, and had started to casually pull off his tie. He nearly choked, trying to eat the strawberry, whilst being hotly conscious of being undressed.

The tie fell to the floor. Before he could blink, she'd unbuttoned his shirt, and was pushing it - and his suit jacket - off his shoulders.

The audience gasped in shock as they saw the fat suit. Ariadne quickly moved to the back, and began untying the strings.

Arthur turned his head. Jules, also clad in a long black dress, was casually undressing Robert. As his clothes hit the floor, the audience began to murmur.

After a few seconds, both men were standing in front of the audience, shirtless. Arthur blinked. Suddenly, the lights did not feel too hot anymore.

Swallowing, he began to walk forward, noting how eyes were now turning onto his lean, lightly muscled torso. Robert, taking his cue from Arthur, walked out next to him.

Suddenly, he felt something being pressed into his hand. He blinked, and held it up to the audience.

It was a picture of Summer.

He felt Ariadne wrap her fingers round his, and squeeze them. Swallowing, he opened his mouth to speak.

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you! **


	82. Chapter 82

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. **

A hushed silence descended as Arthur held up the photograph. It was a picture of Summer, an early promo shot. As she caught a glimpse of it, Ariadne was surprised to see that the other woman was more round faced, and she noticed, curvaceous.

"This is Summer," Arthur almost barked at the audience. "A model. And a friend of mine. In fact, she's an ex-girlfriend."

He waited, then began to speak again.

"At this present moment, she's lying in a hospital bed. She collapsed. She collapsed due to malnutrition, aided by laxative abuse. She's bulimic." He paused. "When someone outside of this world is suffering from this, they're given help, support, treatment. Summer has received nothing."

A low gasp began to ripple round the room. He swallowed, and continued.

"Why did no-one notice?" his voice was taking on an angrier edge. "When I first met her, nearly ten years ago, she was healthy. She had hips, a bust, thighs! Which women are supposed to have!"

Murmuring was beginning to break out. He glared at the audience and decided to continue speaking.

"But that's not acceptable, in this world!" he waved his hand in the direction of the runway, and towards the audience. "Its not acceptable to have the body of a woman, its not even acceptable to have the body of a man! You need the body of a child!"

Browning stood up. "Stop right there!" he roared, his face almost puce with anger. "You can stop right there with your self-righteousness, Arthur! How do you afford those designer suits? That huge penthouse in New York? That lovely townhouse of yours in LA? I'll tell you! By selling your body on the catwalk!"

Arthur blinked. A personal attack was something he had not considered. Browning, clearly bouyed up, decided to continue.

"Why don't we tell the audience here a little something about you?" he snapped, his words spiked with venom. "You were a college drop out! Couldn't handle life at Columbia! If you hadn't been spotted, you would have failed your course! So, yes, good face, good body - shame about the brain!"

Arthur, speechless, stared at him.

"You are nothing but a puppet!" Browning's face was contorted with rage, and he was practically spitting out the words. "What would you have done if you hadn't gone into modelling? I'll tell you- work in a cubicle, just been one of the little people! You are nothing special, if it weren't for how you look! And now you dare to criticise the world that's given you so much!"

He stopped. Everyone was staring at the middle aged man, clearly incandescent with rage. Arthur raised an eyebrow. Robert said nothing.

"The little people?" Arthur said, his tone disbelieving. "That shows the contempt that people like you have for the people who buy the clothes and come to the shows." He shook his head. "OK, I nearly failed college. But I'm not stupid enough to not see the way that people like you manipulate and use people. And if I'm a puppet, then you're just the puppet master, right?"

"And you are-" Browning swallowed, puffing like a buffalo. Furious, he stormed out, almost knocking over a shocked usher as he barged past her. A murmur rose in the room, swelling to a crescendo. Arthur, feeling stunned, began to turn to walk off, but Robert grabbed his arm.

"Wait," he murmured.

A young woman was standing up, clapping. Blinking, Arthur watched as several others joined her, demonstrating their support. Taken aback at this, he stopped.

"Thank you," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "But listen...you need to listen..."

He heard Ariadne suck in her breath. Robert, his hand still on Arthur's arm, gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I could have done more to help her." Arthur swallowed, feeling tears begin to form, causing his vision to swim. "I knew she was making herself ill, and I said nothing. I could have taken her to see a doctor, and I didn't. I could have encouraged her to eat, rather than getting angry, and I didn't. I could have talked to her, rationally, and explained to her that I did something similar myself once."

At this, silence descended upon the audience again, several turning to look at each other uneasily.

"When I was five years younger, I was approached by a very wealthy, powerful owner of a major fashion house." Arthur swallowed, trying to hold his nerve. "He wanted me to be the face of his spring show."

"He offered to wine and dine me at a restaurant. As we were eating, he commented that I was 'plump', and needed to lose 10lbs to get the contract. I went to the bathroom, and made myself vomit."

A shocked gasp ran through the audience. Arthur righted himself, and continued.

"As I did that, I looked down into the toilet bowl, and realised that this was where I'd be spending most of my time if I didn't get out. If I took that contract, before too long, I'd be throwing up after every meal - if I ate at all. I walked out of the restaurant, and immediately booked a flight to see my parents. When I saw my mother, her first words were that I was too thin."

"I didn't end up like Summer. But others like her have. And I can't support something that does this to people. And this is why this is my last appearance on a runway, in a magazine, or a photo shoot. Browning calls people like me, like us, little people. But we don't abuse people to get what we want. That's all I have to say."

Before the crowd could react, he'd hurried down off the catwalk, away from the prying eyes and intrusive camera lenses. As he slumped at a table at his dressing room, he felt the tears flow.

Suddenly, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. "Hey," a voice said, pulling him up. "Hey, its OK."

Arthur looked up, and pulled Ariadne into an embrace. She rubbed his back, as though to soothe him. "Its ok. It'll be ok."

"I could have-" he choked out. "I should have-" he banged his fist on the table. "I should have helped her!"

"You are not responsible," Ariadne said, gently, pulling him close. "You are not responsible for the idea that destroyed her."

He swallowed, and nodded. "Maybe."

"Arthur!" Eames broke in, hurrrying into the room. "Arthur, that was magnificent! And career ending, but still!"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Well, time for a new career, then."

Robert and Jules hurried in. Arthur got up. "Thank you," he said to Robert, who pulled him into a hug before anything further could be said.

"Let's go," Robert said, quietly. Nodding in agreement, Arthur reached for his jeans and t-shirt, ready to change, and get out.

* * *

"So, what next?" Ariadne asked, as they sat together on the back porch. Arthur smiled, and looked at her over the rim of his wine glass.

"Our wedding." He grinned. "Still want to marry me?"

"Yes!" she cried out, almost affronted. Leaning over, their lips met in a kiss. "I'm so lucky," Arthur murmured.

Suddenly, she heard a voice. "Arthur!"

"Yes, Mom?" he called, looking up.

"A magazine just rang, they want to interview you about today." His mother looked at him, both concerned and proud. Arthur sighed. "I don't think so."

"But its a good way of spreading your message," Ariadne argued.

"I agree, but-"

His cell phone rang. Sighing, he pulled it out. "Hello?"

"Arthur Ogilvie?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"Its the hospital. Summer is awake, and asking for you."

Arthur blinked, stunned. He turned to Ariadne, who nodded. "Let's go see her," she whispered.

"OK," Arthur replied, firmly. "We'll be there in about 20 minutes."

**All readers appreciated, and I'd love some reviews, thank you!**


	83. Chapter 83

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. Yes, I know this story is long...but I enjoy writing it. **

"Arthur, be careful!"

Blinking, Arthur steered the wheel, narrowly missing the other car. He turned to Ariadne, a worried smile on his face. "I'm sorry," he apologised. "Not one of my better driving days!" He bit his lip, trying to focus on the road. Suddenly, he noticed the traffic slowing down. Frustrated, he banged the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, accidentally sounding the horn. Flustered, he shook his head.

"As I said, not one of my better days," he mumbled as the traffic ground to a stop. "Ending my career, being told an ex-girlfriend is dying...great day." He turned to look at the petite brunette sitting next to him, and his face softened. "But at least I'm here with you."

She nodded. "Well, there is that." Her attempt at a light hearted comment was appreciated by Arthur, who smiled.

"Oh, good, we're moving." He began to steer the car, heading towards the hospital. "Listen, thank you for coming. I wouldn't blame you if you'd chosen not to."

"Why?" she asked, carefully.

"Well, Summer's not been the nicest person in the past..." he faltered, before turning off a road. "And I-"

"You what?"

"I need to-" he swallowed as they approached the hospital. "I need to tell you about something." He parked the car, then blinked. "Oh, look."

Several photographers were crowded round the entrance. Arthur looked at Ariadne, and she nodded. "Let's go."

As they left the car, their hands linked together, and they began to walk towards the assembled throng. Immediately, cameras began snapping. Arthur blinked.

"Arthur!" one photographer shouted. "Looking thinner than you did on the catwalk!"

An obnoxious wave of laughter greeted this comment. Arthur smiled tightly, and nodded. Ariadne gripped her fingers more tightly.

"So what are you going to do now?!" someone else shouted. "Eat doughnuts until you get craned out of the house?!"

Ignoring the taunts, Arthur walked to the reception. Ariadne stayed close to him, suddenly afraid of the intrusive camera lenses.

Walking up to reception, Arthur cleared his throat. The receptionist looked up. "May I help you?"

"I'm looking for Summer Quinn," Arthur said, calmly. "I received a phone call saying she was asking for me?"

"Oh. What's your name?"

"Arthur Ogilvie."

The receptionist nodded. "Yes, just checking...yes, according to her doctor, she requested to see you. Room 213. Second floor, to the left."

Arthur thanked her, then began to walk towards the elevator. Ariadne looked at him - his face was downcast.

"It'll be ok," she said, and squeezed his hand. He looked at her and nodded, tiredly. "Let's hope so."

They rode the elevator in silence, then Arthur spoke. "When we have kids-" she looked at him, slightly startled, and he blushed - "if we have kids, and if we have a daughter, I am never letting her buy fashion magazines, never letting her near diet products, and I will insist she eats carbohydrates."

Ariadne nodded. "But...that might encourage her to get a complex."

"Not when she has a father who thinks she and her mother are the most beautiful women in the world," he insisted. The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open.

"And what would we call her?"

"Alice," Arthur said, with finality. "Alice. Its perfect."

Smiling, she nodded, and they walked towards room 213. Swallowing, Arthur knocked. After a few moments, a weak sounding voice said "yes?"

Pushing the door open, Arthur walked in, and blinked. Summer, who was as white as bone, was propped up against several pillows. An IV pole was sitting next to the bed, its long snake like tubing feeding into her arm. She shifted, her face brightening as she saw Arthur.

"Arthur! You came!"

"Well, I couldn't not come," he replied, then bit his lip. "Ariadne came with me." He delivered it as a simple statement, making it clear he did not care if she objected or not. He settled in a seat, and Ariadne sat next to him. "How are you?"

She sighed. "They say I've damaged myself." She looked at Arthur, biting her lip. "My heart is weak. Because of the vomiting."

He nodded. "I hate to say this, but it doesn't surprise me." He winced, realising how callous he must sound. "Summer, please, listen to the specialists. Its what they're here for."

"Arthur?"

"Yes, Summer?"

"They've told me if I go back to modelling, it will kill me." She looked at him, her eyes full of tears. "What can I do instead?"

"Go to college," he said, decisively. "Learn something. You can speak French - why not study a language? Literature? That's what I'm going to do. After Ariadne and I get married."

"You're really getting married?"

"Yes," Ariadne spoke up, almost forcefully. "We are."

"Do you think..." Summer blinked, and tears started to run down her face. "I'm sorry, Ariadne. I'm sorry for the names I called you."

Awkwardly, Ariadne leaned forward, and patted her hand. "Its allright," she said, gently.

"No, it isn't!" Summer was sitting up, her eyes flashing. "I called you a noneentity, and plain, and-" she began to cough, and fell back on the pillows. "I called you-"

"Summer, its all right," Arthur said, worriedly, noting how tense her facial expression had become. "Its allright."

"And I called you fat, Arthur."

He nodded. "Yes, but I-"

Ariadne looked at him. "What is it?"

He swallowed. "I-"

Summer spoke. "I need to sleep. Is that all right?"

Arthur began to get up. "Yes. We'll come back and see you, ok?"

"You don't have to."

"What if we want to?" Ariadne's voice surprised them both. Swallowing, Arthur leaned over and pecked Summer on the cheek, and nodding, he and Ariadne began to leave.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, Summer?"

"Should I leave Jared?"

He swallowed, and nodded. "Yes," he said, softly. "For your own good. Please." Satisfied with his response, she nodded, and leaning back on the pillows, closed her eyes.

* * *

"Arthur?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you want to talk?"

He looked up. They were back in the Cobb's elegant townhouse, sitting in the lounge. Arthur had been silent since they had left the hospital, and Ariadne was sitting with her legs resting in his lap.

"Well, I-" he blinked. "Ari, remember what you said to me at the show about Summer? That I was not responsible for the idea that destroyed her?"

"Yes." She nodded, her frown beginning to deepen. "What is it?"

"Well, I-" he swallowed. "When Summer and I first stated dating, I turned up to her apartment and she was still getting ready. She asked me to wait, then asked if I would give my opinion on how she looked."

"Yes?" Ariadne pressed.

"She came out in this tight fitting dress, and asked me, 'Arthur, do I look fat'?"

"And what did you say?"

"I said, 'oh yes, Summer, you look huge.'" He looked at her, noting how she gasped slightly. "It was meant as a joke, and she -"

"Took it seriously?"

"Yes." He slumped back. "Then we went out for dinner -she ate hardly anything. She just pushed the food around her plate."

"And then what?" Ariadne's voice was gentle.

"She began to eat less. And when I challenged her, she told me that I had told her she was too fat." He shook his head, tears forming in his eyes. "And in a way, I had."

"No!" Ariadne was appalled. "You meant it as a joke - Summer was having problems before you made that comment. You are not responsible!"

"Yeah, well-" his voice faltered. "Its just that when we get married, I'm never going to criticise the way you look. You could gain 200lb and still be beautiful to me."

"Why, thank you." She leaned over, and kissed his nose. "Compliment taken!"

"Indeed." He sighed. Ariadne picked up the TV remote, flicking on the set. Suddenly, he winced as his picture filled the screen. "And we report today that Arthur Ogilvie and Robert Fischer both left modelling, with Ogilvie delivering an inflammatory piece about objectification-"

Ariadne switched off the set. "Ignore it." She looked at him. "What are you going to wear when we get married?"

He smiled. "Something grey. Not black." He nodded. "And you will wear...?"

"Light pink."

"Really?"

"I'm not a virgin, Arthur!"

"Er, no, I never suggested you were!" he replied, blushing.

Smiling, she hit him with a cushion. "I guess Jules and Robert have gone out," she mused, looking at the clock.

"Well," Arthur said, pulling her close, the tension and worry of the day suddenly boiling inside him, "I guess we have the house to ourselves..."

Giggling, she allowed herself to be pulled up, and they walked together upstairs.

* * *

Arthur turned over, and sighed happily. Ariadne nestled against his chest.

"You're too good," he said, playfully, as she lightly slapped his arm. "No, I mean it!"

"Yes, well enjoy it," she said, smirking. "When we get married it'll only be twice a week!"

His eyebrows raised. "Twice a week? I was hoping for-"

His cellphone rang, cutting across the last half of his sentence. Annoyed, he reached for it. "Hello? What? My god...no, I-thank you."

He switched the phone off and lay back down next to Ariadne. "What is it?"

"Summer died tonight," he said, tonelessly. "She had a heart attack and they...they didn't revive her in time."

Ariadne said nothing. Soundlessly, she reached out to pull Arthur close to her as his body was wracked with guilt ridden sobs.

**Thank you for reading - please leave a review, it is appreciated!**


	84. Chapter 84

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. **

"Arthur?"

He swallowed, and rolled over. His eyes were still shut, and he fought fiercely against the light penetrating them from the window. He groaned slightly as he felt a touch on his shoulder.

"Arthur!"

He blinked, and turned his head. Ariadne was perched on the edge of the bed, holding a cup of coffee. "Here," she whispered. "I brought you this."

Sitting up, he reached out to accept it. His eyes were red, and she noticed, puffy. "What time is it?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Eleven." She smiled, uneasily, but he didn't complain. "I thought I'd let you sleep. You had a bad night."

He nodded. "Thanks." He took a sip of the hot liquid. "I think I fell asleep around 2am, maybe 3am." He took another sip, then began to put the mug down on the bedside table. "I kept you awake. I'm sorry."

"No," she said, soothingly, anxious to reassure him. "You didn't. I got up early, went for a run." He frowned slightly - she was wearing track pants and a loose t-shirt. Her hair was piled on top of her head, with a pink flush colouring her cheeks.

"Maybe I should." He sighed, and leaned back. "Might help."

He pushed the covers back. "In fact, I think I'll-"

"Arthur." Ariadne's voice was firm. "Arthur, about last night-"

He paused, and looked at her. "Yes, I know." His voice was heavy, sad. "I suspect I may have to make a few phone calls."

"Did she have family?"

Arthur nodded. "She did, of a sort. Her parents were dead - her mother died of cancer when she was a teenager, her father - I'm not too sure. She rarely mentioned him." He frowned. "I do know she had a brother, though."

"Where's he?"

"Canada." Arthur was getting out of bed, reaching for a pair of clean boxers. "Vancouver, I believe." He began to pull on his jeans. "I'll have to get his number."

"OK." Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Ariadne moved towards the door. "I'll get it-"

"No!" Arthur shouted suddenly. She blinked, shocked. "What is it?"

"Might be press." Arthur swallowed, looking ashamed. "I'm sorry. But, I don't think either of us should open the door right now. I do that show, and Summer passes away - they're looking for a story, and I'm not going to give it to them."

She nodded. There was a tightness to his jaw that she'd never seen. His movements were quick, finishing getting dressed. He reached for a leather jacket and pulled it onto his shoulders.

"Are you going to the hospital right now?" she asked, almost timidly.

"Yes." He grabbed a comb, quickly running it through his hair, before placing it on the bedside table. "Listen - its best if I go alone." He bit his lip. "I just - I just don't want you upset by this, ok?"

"Arthur, I'm upset already." Her tone was slightly steely. "One minute, we're talking about our wedding, pesuming you still want to marry me-"

"Of course I do!" a look of stunned hurt was creeping across his face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Its just-" she looked at him, and took a deep breath. "When we got together, were you still in love with Summer?"

Arthur's jaw was dropping. "Ariadne-"

"You seem to have spent a lot of time worrying about her," she interrupted, not giving him a chance to respond fully. "And now you're blaming yourself for what killed her. It was not you, Arthur. It was not you. When she turned up in Paris - "

"Ariadne, this is ridiculous," Arthur said, his tone firm. "I can assure you, when I arrived, I was single, and not even looking for a relationship. Finding you was a twist of fate, I'm sure of it."

"But you lied to me from the beginning," she said, slowly. "You told me you were a greetings card writer, tried to hide what you really were." She shook her head. "You couldn't tell me you were a model, couldn't tell me you were a celebrity." She turned her face away.

"Ariadne, I know I did, but..." his voice trailed away. "I came to Paris on holiday. I came here to get away from modelling, to get away from people who were always fawning over me, treating me as though I was special just because of my bone structure. I didn't want you to think I was just an...airhead. Some smug idiot who thought I was great just because I wear clothes for a living." He shook his head. "I wanted you to see the real me."

"But do you see the real me, Arthur?" she asked, suddenly.

He blinked, aware a pounding had started in his chest. "Ari...of course I do. You're sweet, intelligent, kind, generous-"

"Yes, Arthur," she said, her voice muffled. "But I don't think you or Robert really see Jules and I for what we are. I think you're both - grateful to us."

Arthur felt stunned. "Ariadne-"

"You're grateful to me because I'm not a model," she said, her tone slightly choked. "Because I won't pull you back into that world. But I think you still had feelings for Summer. Why else would you have taken all of this so badly?"

"Ariadne-"

"Go to the hospital, Arthur, please." She turned her head away. "I'll see you later."

Swallowing, his throat constricted, Arthur turned and began to leave.

* * *

"Mr Ogilvie?"

Arthur swallowed, and began to get up. Getting to the hospital had been a nightmare, having to force his way through a large and hungry press pack. He followed the white coated doctor into her office.

"Dr Bryce," he said, smiling uneasily. She settled into a seat, and nodded. "How are you, Mr Ogilvie?"

"Oh, I'm fine," he said, breezily, trying to forestall the unpleasantness of the coming conversation. "Why do you ask?"

"I saw the news reports. You're a brave man." She smiled. "But, Summer." Her fae fell into a frown. "She passed away after we failed to revive her. Her heart finally gave out."

Arthur felt cold inside. "You couldn't...do anything?"

"Mr Ogilvie, there was nothing we could do. Her potassium and mineral balance was completely abnormal. She'd almost worn her oesphagus away." She shook her head. "Terrible price to pay for her career."

Arthur swallowed. "Doctor... what can cause eating disorders?"

She looked at him. "Why do you ask?"

"I just thought..." He shifted uncomfortably. "I used to date her...do you think a comment I made would have...?"

"Mr Ogilvie." She looked at him, her expression kind. "Summer had these symptoms for years. And I mean, years. Any comment you made may have accelerated some facets of her illness, but I doubt you are directly responsible."

Arthur exhaled slowly. Fear and relief, he realised with a pang of guilt, were mixing. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

* * *

"Ariadne?"

She blinked. Jules was standing over her, frowning. She smiled weakly. "Hey."

"Ari, are you allright?" Jules face was creased in concern. "You've been up here for a couple of hours."

"I know. I just-" she closed her eyes. "Arthur's at the hospital."

"For Summer?"

"Yes." Ariadne began to sit up. "I wonder if he...well, if he-"

"Don't." Jules' voice was sharp. "Don't think like that. You know its not true. You know he never felt for her what he feels for you!"

"But I just..." She shook her head, then started to get up. "He lied to me from the beginning." Standing up, she turned and walked out of the room. Troubled, Jules stared after her. Robert, who was in the kitchen, walked in.

"What happened?"

Jules shook her head. "Something's going on," she said, quietly. "Maybe you should talk to Arthur."

He nodded. "I'll try."

* * *

Arthur walked back to his car as though in a dream. He was mentally re-living the moment in the apartment in New York.

He'd arrived early, and Summer, wrapped in a bathrobe, had directed him to the lounge. Sighing, he'd collapsed onto the sofa, frowning as his suit had creased. Suddenly, she'd burst in, wearing a tight lycra dress.

"Arthur!"

He'd looked up, tiredly. "Yes?"

"Do I look fat in this?" she'd asked, worriedly, turning round. Arthur sighed with impatience. Summer, he mused, was the most insecure woman he'd ever met. Irritated, he decided to snap her out of it.

"Yes, you look huge!" he snapped, his face twisting. To his shock, her face had crumpled, and she'd hurried back into the bedroom. After an interminable wait, she'd re-emerged, clad in a loose black dress. Swallowing, he'd taken her hand, and they'd left.

All she'd ordered at dinner had been salad.

He frowned, and began to drive back. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He'd come to Paris to escape his past...and now it was biting him firmly.

"My bad," he muttered as he approached the house. To his relief, the paparazzi had cleared, and he parked. As he got out, he swallowed. He desperately needed to talk to Ariadne, and hoped that Robert and Jules would be out. Eames he hadn't heard from all day, and he presumed he was hungover at his hotel.

He walked to the door, and unlocked it. "I'm back!"

As he entered, Jules hurried towards him. "Arthur. Upstairs."

"What?" he blinked, slightly shocked. He hurried up the stairs, approaching the bedroom. As he opened the door, his heart sank.

Ariadne's suitcase had gone. On the bed was a sheet of creamy paper. As he picked it up, he felt his heart expand in his chest.

_Arthur,_

_I've gone back to New York. I need some time to think, alone. You and I - I'm not sure where we're going. All you seem to do is fret about other people - Robert, Summer, the population - and I'm not sure if you care for me, or just want me there to support you. I do care about you, Arthur. I love the person you are. But I'm not sure if you really love or see the real me, and I can't marry you until you realise. _

_Please look after yourself. _

_A x_

__Stunned, Arthur sank down onto the bed, crumpling the letter in his fist. With his head sinking into his hands, he burst into sobs.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	85. Chapter 85

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me**

"Right." Eames put two cups of coffee on the table, and looked at Arthur. "Talk to me. What exactly happened?"

Arthur swallowed, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. He felt he'd cried enough, and needed to be as calm and unemotional as possible. "I told you. Ariadne's gone."

Eames nodded, sagely. "But not for good."

"I think so." Arthur rubbed his face, grimacing at the soreness of his skin. "I pushed her away."

"Did you?"

"Eames." Arthur looked down at the coffee cup, the black liquid representing a bottomless pit. "She left me this note." Reaching into the pocket of his sweater, he pulled it out, and tossed it at the other man.

Eames unfolded it, and read it, frowning slightly. "Well." He folded it up again. "Clearly, you have to try and win her back. Woo her. Show her that you do really care."

"But-" he shook his head. "She thinks I was still in love with Summer."

"Were you?" Eames bit his lip, consternation falling across his face. "If you were Arthur, you need to admit it-"

"No! Yes! Maybe a little!" He rubbed his forehead. "Summer and I come from the same world - both of us paid too much to do nothing but stand and grin for a camera. Both of us know - knew - what its like to be constantly scrutinised. Ariadne has a normal life, a normal career, a normal world. That's something that I can't change."

"Arthur." Eames' voice was gentle. "Summer is no longer here."

"I know." He wiped his eyes again. "And I..." he shook his head. "I couldn't help her." He began to get up, pushing his chair away. "I failed."

"Arthur." Eames' voice was stern. "You didn't. She wouldn't listen to you, its that simple. And she never would. You do have a choice - you can punish yourself forever, or you can try and work things out. Work things out with the woman who you do love, and who loves you."

"Yes, I-" Arthur paused, as the door opened, and Jules walked in. She blinked as she saw Arthur. "Robert and I are leaving," she announced, in a neutral tone.

"Leaving? Where?" Arthur felt slightly stunned. "Where are you going?"

"L.A.," Jules said, her tone gentle. "Rob has a place there, and we thought we'd have a brief vacation. Give you some time."

Arthur looked down into the coffee cup. "That's very sweet of you, but-"

"No, Arthur," Jules interrupted. "When I say, give you some time, what I mean is, you come with us, and we take care of you for a bit."

"You're Ariadne's best friend," Arthur said, quirking an eyebrow. "I thought you'd be concerned for her."

"I am." Jules walked over, and slid onto an empty stool. "I am concerned for her. But as for you...look at you." She shook her head. "When was the last time you shaved? Had a shower? Ate something decent?"

Arthur frowned and rubbed his face. Jules had a point - his skin felt thick, and he knew that his stubble was growing. "Point taken," he mumbled.

"So, maybe you should get yourself cleaned up," she said, gently. "Go on." She gave him a push, sending him stumbling off the stool. "Now!"

Arthur headed towards the door, Jules watching him with a slightly maternal smile. Eames shook his head. "You're up to something."

"Maybe," she commented, shrugging. "Maybe not."

* * *

Ariadne swallowed as she hoisted her books in her arms, and began to hurry across the University campus. The gleaming towers and beautiful green lawn sparkled in the early morning light. She took a deep breath of the air, and walked to her first class.

As she settled herself in the seat, she looked round. The lecture theatre was filling up quickly, she noted, with both girls - and guys. Normal guys, who didn't care what they ate or drank, and who she was willing to bet didn't have a skincare routine.

She swallowed, feeling a prickle of guilt. It had been three days since she'd arrived back, and re-enrolled herself in New York for the rest of the semester. She'd also sent an apologetic email to Mal and Dom, stating a family emergency had driven her to leave Paris.

Flicking open her notebook, she waited impatiently for the Professor to arrive. Suddenly, she heard a voice. "May I sit here?"

She looked up. A blonde student, handsome and smiling, was standing above her. She took him in - his wire framed glases gave him a slightly geeky, but kind appearance. She looked at him, and nodded.

"Of course."

"Thank you." He sat down, and took a deep breath. "I, uh-" he swallowed. "I was in your class last year. Gothic Architecture, remember?"

"I-" she paused. Suddenly, she realised that she did know him. He had sat in the row behind her, and somehow they had always ended up in close proximity at the Coffee Bean, the local student coffee shop. She paused, and blushed. This was a nice, normal guy.

_Wait a minute, you're technically engaged, remember?_

"I'm, uh, Bill," he said, his voice almost apologetic. "You went to Paris, didn't you?"

"I did," she said, nodding.

He looked at her, and swallowed. "Wow." He paused, as though trying to work up courage. "Would you like to go for coffee after the lecture?" he lowered his voice, noting that the Professor had entered and was standing behind the lectern. "Just coffee, I'm not-" he blushed.

Ariadne smiled. The guy's sweetness and blushing insecurity was exceptionally appealing. "That would be lovely," she said, firmly. "I know a great place."

Smiling, Bill nodded. As the Professor began, some of her tension began to ebb away.

* * *

Arthur paused, and examined himself in the mirror. He had shaved, and had washed and smoothed his hair back. He frowned, noting the dark circles under his eyes. "Damn," he muttered, softly. He shook his head, and began to go through his wardrobe, pulling out clothes. As he pulled on a pair of jeans, he blinked. They were starting to gape at the waist.

He threw himself on the bed, disgusted. Ariadne had been right - he'd been so consumed in other people's lives, he'd been neglecting her -and himself. He'd gained weight, lost it - and now, he thought looking down at himself, he looked untoned, and unhealthy. He shook his head. He needed to start eating properly, exercising, and taking more care of himself.

"I look-" he muttered, and shook his head. Biting his lip, he opened a suitcase, and began to throw the clothes in.

* * *

Ariadne blinked as she unlocked her tiny apartment door. Coffee with Bill had been good, she decided. He'd been sweet, attentive, and, she was relieved to see, not overly obsessed with other people's problems.

She sighed as she sank into an overstuffed chair, kicking off her pumps. Suddenly, the phone rang. Frowning, she reached for the receiver, and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Ari?"

"Jules?" Ariadne swallowed - she felt a tremour of guilt at leaving her best friend with no real explanation. Swallowing, she willed herself to stay calm, and continue the conversation. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm good. So's Rob." There was a pause. "But Arthur-"

"Arthur what?" Ariadne said quietly.

"Listen, I understand why you did what you had to," Jules said, quickly. "But he is cut up about this. I need to ask you something- do you think that you and Arthur - do you think it can still work?"

Ariadne gripped the receiver, wishing that for all her good intentions, Jules had not called. "I hope it can," she said, shakily. "But-"

"But what?"

"I need to be sure that he's not so self involved, that he-" she stopped, felling tears beginning to spill down her cheeks. "He-"

"Ari." Jules' voice was soft. "He's a good guy, you know that. He cares."

"I know." Ariadne felt her voice become barely a whisper. "But..."

"Listen, he regrets it." Jules softened her voice. "Speak to you soon, ok?"

"Of course."

Ariadne listened as the phone buzzed. Sighing, she burrowed into the chair.

* * *

"You ok?"

Ariadne smiled at Bill. It was the third time they had met up, and she was just beginning to relax and enjoy his company. It had been over a week since Jules had called, and Ariadne would admit to herself that she was trying to avoid her.

She bit her lip. Arthur...she did want to see him. But she felt unsure that she was as important to him as he had claimed. She sighed, and opened one eye as Eloise, a classmate, walked up.

"Hey there." Eloise settled herself next to Ariadne without waiting for an invitation. She was holding the current issue of _People. _"Time for a little celebrity gossip, huh?"

Ariadne blinked, and felt herself being repelled. "Well, is it important?" She responded, carefully. "I mean, they are just people."

Eloise shrugged, and began to flick through the glossy pages. "They get paid to be looked at - oh god, look at this!"

Ariadne blinked. Eloise was pointing to a picture of Arthur. She blinked - he had been snapped wearing jeans and a t shirt, and she noted how downcast he looked.

"God knows what happened to him," Eloise commented. "He was so good looking!" She shook her head in disgust. "He's really let himself go!"

Bill snickered slightly. "Men like that..." he said. Ariadne turned to him. "What do you mean, men like that?"

"Well, being paid to model." Bill peered at the picture. "Problem is, when their looks go - "

"They really go!" Eloise added, nodding her head in agreement. "I mean, he looks like a wax work...and now he's melting!"

Ariadne felt words jump to her lips. She wanted to protest that Arthur was kind, thoughtful, generous- but realised they would never believe her. She got up, determined to walk away from them.

* * *

Arthur shook his head as he burrowed into the seat. He looked at Robert, and smiled. "You tricked me."

"Indeed." Robert yawned. "Don't disturb me."

Smiling, Arthur turned back to his book.

* * *

Ariadne threw her keys down, and hurried into the bedroom. Collapsing on the bed on her front, she exhaled, slowly, and loudly.

Bill had been so judgemental, she felt. He'd dismissed Arthur due to a photo - and whilst it was unflattering, she couldn't believe the snide print that had accompanied the snatched picture. "Dishevelled...and clearly at a loss," the writer had sneered. She shook her head, and turned over.

Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door. Annoyed, she began to get up, kicking off her shoes as she did so. "Coming!"

She wrenched the door open, and blinked. Arthur stood in front of her, dressed in a suit. She raked her eyes over him - he looked better than he had for several weeks. She held the door, and narrowed her eyes. "Arthur-"

"Look, if you're busy-" he began. Then he shook his head. "No, I flew across the Atlantic to be here. I need to talk to you." He looked at her. Properly."

She swallowed, and held the door open. He strode in, his manner almost business like.

"You look good," she faltered, the magazine image still on her mind. "Have you been...?"

"Eating properly?" he smiled at her. "Yes. Jules has been mothering me a little." He smoothed down the suit. "You look great."

She looked at herself. "Well..."

"Ariadne," he said, his words in a rush. "Please. Talk to me." He looked at the floor. "I need to know if you'll-"

Suddenly, he stopped. She had reached for his face, and kissed it. He grabbed hold of her hands, and pulled her close. Turning, she began to pull him towards the bedroom, him following and closing the door behind them.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	86. Chapter 86

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur sighed, and rolled over. Ariadne didn't stir, and he smiled, looking at her. Her dark hair was spiralling in waves across the pillow, and her skin was like silk. Trying hard not to disturb her, he turned, and began to carefully slide out of the bed.

He took steps across the room, stepping over the clothes that lay scattered on the carpeted surface. He had not stood on ceremony - as Ariadne had removed his clothes, letting them drop onto the floor, he'd been in no mood to stop her. He looked, blinking, as he realised how crumpled and messy the clothes were. Spotting a plain white bathrobe hanging on te back of the door, he picked it up, and slid it on. Grinning at how short it was on him, he continued, moving into the hallway and heading for the small kitchen.

He checked the time of the digital clock. It was 7 am. Smiling, he picked up the kettle, and began to fill it with water. He and Ariadne had ordered chinese food, eaten together, talked...and then gone back to bed. He blushed slightly, and put the kettle onto boil, hunting for coffee. He found the canister, and began to open it. Suddenly, he heard a soft knock on the door. Frowning slightly, he moved towards the hall, and began to open it.

On the doorstep stood a young man, casually dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt. He blinked, trying to take in the sight of Arthur...who was still wearing the robe.

"May I help you?" Arthur asked, politely. The young man blinked, clearly taken aback. "I was wondering if..." He stood up straighter, trying to compose himself. "If Ariadne was here?"

"She's asleep," Arthur said, politely. "May I take a message?"

"No," the young man said, shaking his head, and taking a step back. "Thanks, anyway." He frowned, and looked at Arthur. "Do I know you?"

"No," Arthur said, politely. "We've never met."

"No, I just wondered...you look familiar." The other man shook his head. Turning, he began to walk away.

Arthur shut the door, frowning. On impulse, he bolted it. Then he turned and began to walk back to the kitchen. Arthur began to make coffee, hoping to have it finished before Ariadne woke.

"Arthur?"

He turned, almost dropping the cannister. "Sorry," he apologised. "You weren't meant to-"

"Come back to bed." Her voice was soft.

Arthur looked at the can of coffee, and made a decision. "Yes." Placing it on the side, he followed her back to the bedroom.

* * *

Arthur rolled over, feeling Ariadne tickling his side. "Well, thank you." He grinned at her, all self-consciousness gone. "Going back to bed...definitely worth it."

She smiled. "I just feel...so much more relaxed here." She stretched, and looked at him. "Here."

Arthur nodded. "Well, I can sell my place in LA...I don't really intend to spend time there." He was quiet, stroking her side. "Buy a place here, big enough that you can have a study..."

"And what will you do?"

"Lounge around, watch tv, eat junk..."

"Arthur!" she playfully swiped at him with a pillow. "Be serious!"

"I am." He told her, smiling. "No...rent a studio, start playing music again. Even if it means playing every student coffeehouse twice to get noticed."

Ariadne leaned back. "Well. Can't argue with that." She began to tickle his stomach. "Sure you won't miss modelling?"

"No," he said, finally. "I won't." He looked at her, and she moved across, lying her head on his chest. "There comes a point where you just say no."

"What about Robert?"

"I believe he may be going to lay claim to his rightful share of his father's business." Arthur looked at her. "And run a restaurant with Jules."

Ariadne smiled. "That will be good."

Arthur began to get up. "And I need the bathroom. See you in a sec."

He began to wander across the room, when suddenly he heard a high pitched ringing sound. Swallowing, he bent down. "Sorry. My cellphone." He pulled it out of his jacket pocket, and was prepared to switch it off, when his eyes widened upon seeing the caller ID. He clicked on it. "Hello?"

Ariadne, frowning slightly, pulled the covers over herself. Arthur's jaw was tightening. "Yes, I'm glad you called. But- no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." He shook his head. "But you really want me there?"

Ariadne looked at him, feeling a slightly sick sensation in her stomach. Arthur was biting his lip. "Yes, all right. But I insist I bring my fiancee. That is ok?"

Ariadne collapsed back on the pillows. "Right. See you then. Bye."

She waited until he had clicked off. "Who was that?"

"Summer's sister." He was frowning. "She's invited me to her funeral, its going to be in Conneticut. Its where her family's from."

Ariadne swallowed. She looked at him, and nodded. "You need to go," she said, gently. "Closure."

Arthur walked over. "Thank you." He kissed her on the forehead. "Come with me?"

"Yes," she said, gently. "Of course."

**Please review - it is appreciated!** **Thank you for reading this fic!**


	87. Chapter 87

Disclaimer: **Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur sighed, and burrowed down in the seat. They had been flying for a few hours, and he was beginning to feel tired, and irritable. He tilted his head. Ariadne had fallen asleep, her book lying on her lap.

He swallowed, and leaned back. The night flight meant they would be in Conneticut the following morning, but the funeral was that afternoon. He leaned back, trying to find a comfortable spot. He grimaced, and moved in his seat.

"Can I get you anything?"

He blinked. A flight attendant was standing over him. He shook his head. "No, thank you."

"Another pillow? A drink?"

Arthur smiled inwardly. "Could I have a scotch, please?"

"Of course," she said, nodding politely. Arthur rubbed his forehead. A scotch on the flight meant he'd end up dehydrated, and with a hangover, but the tension he was feeling needed to ease. After a few minutes, she returned, with a small bottle of Scotch and glass on a tray. He nodded his thanks and handed over his credit card.

She ran it through the machine efficiently, and handed the plastic square back. "Thank you," he muttered, putting it in his wallet. She blinked, and turned, but then stopped.

"Excuse me, your name..." her voice faltered, and she laughed, nervously. "You're that Arthur Ogilvie, aren't you? The model?"

Arthur groaned inwardly. He was beginning to wish he'd never asked for alcohol. He turned his head - the other passengers in first class appeared to be asleep, or intently watching movies. He smiled, and nodded. "Yes, I am."

"Oh," she breathed. "Well, its a pleasure to serve you!"

A sudden wave of irritation was unleashed in Arthur. He frowned, and shook his head.

"A pleasure?" he asked, his tone suddenly harsh. "Why? I don't do anything - just wear other people's clothes and stare at a camera. There are plenty of people who do far more, earn less, and just-" he stopped, rubbing his forehead. "I'm sorry. Its a long flight."

She nodded, but her lip was trembling and he knew he'd upset her. "I'm sorry, Sir," she stammered out, and turned and hurried away.

Arthur sighed and unscrewed the bottle of scotch. "Nice one," he muttered to himself, pouring it into the glass. The gentle splash seemed to wake Ariadne. She began to sit up, blinking.

"Are you allright?"

"I will be, once I've drunk this." He picked up the glass, and took a swallow. "Arthur..."

"What?"

"Do you...?" she lapsed into silence, and he nodded. "Yes," he said, heavily.

She leaned back, closing her eyes. Arthur finished the scotch, the alcohol burning a path down through his stomach, calming his mind, and thoughts.

* * *

"Arthur?"

He blinked, and looked over. It was a few hours later, and they were checked into their hotel. He paused in hanging up his suit. "Yes?"

"What happened, on the flight?" Ariadne asked, carefully. "The flight attendant was trying to avoid you this morning." She unzipped her heavy black flight bag, and looked at him, her expression unreadable. "She seemed a little tense."

Arthur swallowed, a feeling of guilt and shame beginning to overwhelm him. "I was...pretty rude to her on the flight," he admitted. "I asked for a scotch, and when she got it - well, she said it was a pleasure to serve me, and I don't think it is." He sat down, heavily. "I'm nothing special."

"Arthur." Ariadne shook her head. "You have to try and accept that people still think of you as a celebrity. It will pass. Now, this afternoon..."

"Yes?"

"We don't have to go if you-"

"No," he said, decisively. "We were invited, and I owe it to Christina to go."

"Her sister?"

"Yes." Arthur began to pull out a fresh shirt. "I owe it to her. I got on well with her."

"Is she a model?"

"No," Arthur shook his head. "She trained as a singer."

Ariadne bit her lip. Arthur looked downcast, and on impulse, she hugged him. He responded, pulling her close. "It will be ok."

"It will," Ariadne said, firmly. "Shall we go?"

* * *

"...And those of us who knew her, loved her."

Arthur swallowed, trying to keep calm. The ceremony had been lovely, and the church was beautifully decorated with flowers. Everyone attending was wearing a piece of colour, and not simply all black. Christina had insisted in the invitation that Summer would have wanted some colour.

He looked over at her sister. Christina was blonde, and a few years older than Summer had been, and, Arthur admitted to himself, far healthier looking. She was wearing a simple bias cut suit, with a light blue shirt. She turned and looked at him, her lips tightening, then nodded. He waited, listening to the priest calmly finish the service. Then, he watched as the coffin moved forward to the flames.

He blinked, and tightened his grip on Ariadne's hand. She responded by squeezing. As the service finished, he could hear muffled sobs, and felt his own dry eyes begin to well up. As they turned to leave, he began to move slowly out into the fresh air. Suddenly, he heard a voice.

"Arthur?"

He turned. Christina was standing before him, smiling. With her was tall man, presumably her husband.

"Christina." He nodded. "Thank you for coming," she said, awkwardly.

"It was the least I could do." He felt his voice stammer slightly. "Really."

"No, Arthur," she shook her head, her own voice faltering slightly. "You visited her, tried to convince her to get treatment - you did a lot for her."

"I-" he stopped, blinking.

"What is it?" she asked gently.

"I commented on her weight, once." He swallowed, feeling tears threatening to break free. "And her eating disorder...I-"

"Arthur, stop it." She was blinking back tears. "Summer had a problem as a teenager. Modelling was the worst thing she could have gotten into, but you were the best. Because you tried to make her see sense...and she wouldn't listen."

Arthur, stunned, looked at her.

"You have nothing to feel guilty about." She looked at Ariadne. "Your fiancee?"

"Yes," Arthur whispered.

"She's the luckiest girl in the world." Christina reached up, and kissed his cheek. "Bye, Arthur."

Ariadne turned to Arthur. "Well?"

He smiled, tears falling down his face. "Its over." He smiled at her. "What I did...well..."

"You did what you thought was right," she insisted. As he bent down and kissed her, she smiled. "Ready to go home now?"

He nodded. "No. I'm ready to get married. To you." Pulling her close, they shared a deep kiss.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	88. Chapter 88

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. Sorry for the break with this one. **

Arthur rolled over in bed, and laid his hand on Ariadne's side. She was fast asleep. He wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling into her back. She murmured, and grabbed hold of his hand.

He buried his face in her hair. Ever since the funeral, paparazzi had been an almost daily occurence. He bit his lip, remembering how they had been approached as they had tried to get back into the house.

"Hey, Mr Ogilvie!" One photographer had shouted, as they had climbed the steps. "How was the funeral? Do you still think modelling is an appropriate profession?! One that encourages people to hurt themselves?!"

Arthur had ignored them. On entering, he'd merely gone upstairs, peeled off his clothes, and climbed into bed. Ariadne had stayed downstairs. He heard the murmur of voices between her, Jules, and Robert, but not made out anything distinct.

* * *

"So how did it go?"

Ariadne swallowed, and sat down. Robert, thoughtfully, had made coffee and also put a cake in the middle of the kitchen's table. She smiled appreciatively as he cut her a slice. "Better than I thought."

"Did you see her family?"

"Yes." Ariadne rubbed her face. "Her sister. She and Arthur talked, but there's no blame."

"No one was to blame," Robert spoke up, pouring coffee out for the three of them. "She was so ill, no-one could reason with her." He bit his lip. "I've been there."

Ariadne fell silent. As she pulled her coffee cup towards her, her mind was whirling. "Arthur was recognised on the plane," she admitted. "It didn't help."

"Doubt it would have done." Jules took a sip. "We've had paps out here all day. Its been crazy. I wonder-"

Suddenly, there was another pounding knock on the door. Jules sighed, gritting her teeth. Ariadne got up. "I'll go." She walked to the door, and opened it.

Two reporters were standing on the steps. Both of them looked slightly taken aback, but didn't move. Ariadne shook her head. "No comment."

"Oh, come on," one, a woman, said. "We just want to know - how is Arthur going to move on from this?"

Ariadne slammed the door. "No comment!"

Sighing, she walked back to the table.

* * *

Arthur shifted. He couldn't lie in bed for much longer - his legs were beginning to twitch. Blinking, he began to get up, pushing back the covers. As he pulled his legs round, he heard scuffling outside.

He pushed the curtains open, and his jaw dropped. A well dressed man and woman were standing on the steps. "Look, this is MY house, now will you please get off the steps!"

Arthur felt a sudden sense of shock. The Cobbs. They had returned. He began to grab some clothes, and hurried downstairs, hastily pulling on jeans and a faded t-shirt. As the front door opened, he heard their voices.

"I never saw-"

Arthur blinked. A blonde man, with intelligent blue eyes, was looking up at him. His face was tense, and as he saw Arthur, he blinked. "Hello."

"Hi," Arthur said, feeling slightly foolish. "I, um-"

"Arthur?" Cobb looked at him. "Eames' client?"

"Yes," Arthur said, looking embarrassed.

"Where's Ariadne?" Cobb was frowning slightly.

"She's uh-" Suddenly, Arthur felt himself go scarlet with embarrassment. How must it look to these people, coming home from a vacation to find paparazzi on their doorstep, and a man in bed with their house sitter? He felt relieved that Jules and Robert had moved back to her small apartment - the Cobbs would think decadence was raging in their house!

"I should have recognised you," Cobb said, with a chuckle. "You're always on the front of GQ." He smiled.

"Not anymore," Arthur mumbled.

"Pigs!" Arthur heard a female voice spit. "Pigs! Go and do something worthwhile, rather than harrassing people!" The front door slammed, and in walked a coolly beautiful woman, immaculate in a crisp white suit. Arthur swallowed. "Morning."

"Arthur!" Mal exclaimed. "Of course!" She smiled at him. "Those...people! All they do is harrass! They should get real jobs!"

Arthur couldn't help but smile at that. "Well, maybe, so should I."

"Where's Ariadne?"

"In bed." Arthur swallowed, then decided to just tell them. "She and I-"

"Yes?" Cobb said, putting his suitcase down.

"We're getting married," Arthur blurted out.

The Cobbs exchanged glances. "Well," Mal said, finally. "Shall we make coffee, and discuss it?"

Arthur nodded. "Please."

"Well, come on then!"

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


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